THE BEAR AND THE EAGLE
by MickDunD
Summary: When a Russian Nuclear scientist with the knowledge of a bomb that can kill a god escapes from prison, it's up to the demigods to stop the Soviets from launching it at Olympus. But layer upon layer of deadly battles, truths, lies, and depiction await them as they, the Greek, Roman, and American Eagle, battle the mighty Soviet Union Bear in this tale of atomic proportions.
1. Veiled Threats

Summary: The Olympians and the Giants have been locked in a brutal stalemate for months now with no sign of change in the tide of battle. But when they get wind that Gaea's next target is not even on the continent, they know this is not something to take lightly. Her target is a Russian thermonuclear weapons expert who invented a weapon that can kill anything, even an immortal…permanently. Now it is a race against time to find the scientist before they do and ensure he doesn't build his bomb. But this time…the enemy…are not who they think they are.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'M STILL LEARNING RUSSIAN, SO MY SPELLING AND TENSE IS GOING TO BE WAY OFF. I HOPE IT IS STILL A GOOD STORY!**

(Annabeth)

It was madness. Each day more losses with little gain, not enough to keep my spirits high.

A messenger ran in and handed Jason a battle report on a scroll. The noises of the fighting had long stopped, but now the silence was what deafened me.

"It's official," he sighed from across the battle map spread across the command table. "We've taken St. Louis for good."

"The bad news?" I asked.

"Fifty," Reyna rubbed her eyes. "Damnit, how do they still have troops left?"

"I don't know," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. "But it's clear we can't keep doing these little skirmishes and then do major battles. It won't help us."

"Where's Percy?" Piper asked.

"Right here," he said as he walked in, his entire body coated in gold monster dust and sweat.

"Hey, Seaweed Brain," I said. "How'd it go?"

"Good for once," he smiled. "We've pushed them back across the Mississippi and destroyed their water capabilities. They aren't coming back across without swiming."

"Good," I sighed. "It's not as easy being the strategic commander as I thought it was."

"It should be a simple game of chess," Reyna shook her head. "But now we have to gamble with every move."

"Like poker?" Frank asked, scratching his head.

"Sure," I tried not to laugh. "Think of us playing a game of Texas Hold 'Em between Gaea and us."

That seemed to lift everyone's spirits, but promptly we were brought down hard by the only person at the table who didn't seem to care about who we sent to die for us.

"Well, what's our next move?" Octavian asked, clapping his hands together.

I wanted to use my dagger to shut the little prick up. "We attend to the dead," I said. "We recover their bodies and see they are buried properly."

"Yes, well that's all very noble of you," he said, strutting over to my side. "But what of the maps and letters from the enemy camp, the ones that contain their troop movements and whatnot?"

"Whatnot?" Frank snorted. "Did you just say whatnot?"

"So what if I did?" Octavian turned red in the face. "And I wouldn't be talking if I was you, as I don't see you ever on the front line like a true Roman."

"That's because you never go outside your own house!" Reyna snapped at him. "Frank fights like a true Roman, while you spend your time playing with dolls and a knife."

"That's enough out of all of you!" I said in a commanding voice. "Octavian's right though, who has the enemy troop letters?"

"Leo," Percy said, wiping gold dust off his face. "He and part of the Fifth are recovering them right now."

"Booby traps?" I asked.

"Seemingly none," he shrugged. "Maybe they thought they could beat us and didn't have to set any traps?"

"Maybe," I tapped my chin. "Perhaps this is a lucky break for us after all?"

"If there are any traps," Jason said, "Leo can disarm them."

He'd spoke too soon. A second later, an enormous blast rocked the command tent, knocking it over completely. From the blackness inside, I heard the sound of weapons being unsheathed as we readied ourselves for an assault. I drew my knife and cut open the fabric of the tent. A cloud of smoke was billowing from the east section of the camp as a small fire raged through the barracks as campers and Romans ran around, swatting out the fires on each other's clothes. A few of the Aphrodite and Venus kids were screaming and running around as their eyebrows and hair smoldered.

"Percy, put out the fire!" I called as we ran towards the blaze.

"That's all I am around here," he grumbled as he channeled water from the Mississippi onto the fire. "A fire extinguisher."

As soon as the camp and the campers were not burning, we ran to the point where then blast had started. There was a deep crater, about six or seven feet deep, blasted into the ground. At the bottom was a medium-sized metal safe, which was scuffed and battered from the blast.

"A bomb," I said. "So now their using bombs?"

"And not just any bomb," someone coughed.

We turned around to see Leo staggering towards us, his face black with ash and his hair smoldering.

"That, my friends, was good old fashioned TNT," he grinned. "Wired with a pressure-sensitive detonator, set to go off at the slightest bump."

"You say that like it's a good thing?" Octavian trilled. "That could have killed me if you had brought that into the command tent!"

"Nice to know you're thinking of us to," Jason muttered.

"I'll say that was tempting," Leo grinned at the prospect of Octavian exploding. "But anyway, I found a single bomb concealed in the lock, which was set to go off if the wrong combination was used. So I tried to disarm it myself."

"Good job," I nodded at the destruction.

"Hey, I wasn't finished," he silenced me with a finger. "I disarmed the one in the lock, but it turns out there was a second one that would go off if the first one was disarmed. This time, it was a more powerful charge of TNT, designed to have a wide blast-radius. 'Probably would have taken out half the camp if I hadn't found it in time."

He gestured to the crater. "I had just enough time to disarm half the second explosive and throw it before it killed me and everyone here," he said. "So can I get a _gracias, senor Valdez?_"

"Later," Piper said. "After you clean up your mess."

As they started to bicker, Reyna turned to me.

"Monsters aren't smart enough to plant charges like that without vaporizing themselves," she said.

"Not to mention that was a mortal explosive," Leo said, dusting himself off with a clean rag from, his magic tool belt.

"You think Gaea is trading weapons with mortals?" Percy asked.

"Kronos did it," I shrugged. "Maybe Gaea is following his advice."

"And she could certainly pay for it well," Hazel said. "I'm not sure about today, but last I checked, people won't ask questions if their paid well in gold and precious minerals."

Hazel was right. Gaea controlled the riches under the earth just as well as she did. And if she could learn how the black market worked, she could get her hands on anything she wanted. We all shared a mental image of monsters running into battle carrying assault rifles and grenades while tanks rolled past hearing bombers and missiles screaming through the sky. If the Giants got their hands on enough mortal weapons, we could do nothing to stop them without the same kind of firepower.

"Leo, open that safe," Jason said, jerking his thumb at the crater.

"Yes master," he bowed sarcastically as he jumped into the crater and hauled the metal box to the surface. "Gods, this is heavy."

He set to work right away and in a few minutes he cracked the safe.

"Remind me not to tell you where I keep my allowance," Piper said.

"Noted, Beauty Queen," he teased. "Watch it, here's the rest of the bomb."

He passed out a cylinder filled with TNT. The wiring had been cut, and the bomb diffused, but not rendered helpless. I made a mental note to have someone get rid of it all the way.

"Here are the letters," he said as he handed me a few scrolls.

I opened one and skimmed it.

"Here's the supply manifest," I said, handing it to Reyna. "We might be able to scouring some extra gear from that."

"That's good," she told me as she started reading.

I opened the second one and read it.

"A love letter," I said, tossing it to Octavian just to see him squirm. "It's addressed to the commander's girlfriend."

"What can I do with that?" he said, holding the paper like it was a slimy insect.

"Find out who he wrote to and see if she's any use to us," I told him. "Maybe we can use this as leverage if we face them in battle again."

"What about the orders?" Jason asked as I sifted through piles and piles of lists and gross love letters.

"Ah, here they are," I said as I pulled out an envelope sealed with a red wax stamp.

I passed. "Leo, could they have booby trapped this?" I asked.

"Yeah, but there's only one thing deadly enough to kill you that would fit in there," he said.

"Which is?" Piper asked him.

"Anthrax," he shrugged. "I read about it a while back."

"What's anthrax?" Hazel asked.

"A bacteria that was weaponized," I said. "It's used to booby-trap letters and personal items in a powder form. It's small, untreatable…and always fatal."

Hazel went white. It was enough that she had to learn about what had happened after WWII, like the atomic bomb, the Cold War, and every single bad thing that had happened in history since. Now, there were chemical weapons, nuclear weapons, and biological weapons for her to worry about.

I swallowed. We'd already had two bombs to deal with. Now there was the chance that I was holding a biological weapon in my hands, deadly enough to kill us all.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," Percy shrugged. "Open it up."

I used my knife to pry off the wax and slid the letter out. "Any anthrax?" I asked Leo, holding my breath just in case.

He looked in the envelope and swept his finger through it. "None," he announced as he exhaled explosively, letting out the breath he had been holding in like the rest of us.

I unfolded the letter and started reading it.

"To Galmus, Cyclops in command of the St. Louis battalion," I read aloud. "From Earth-Mother. You are to pull your army from this field and return to me. I have a more pressing need for soldiers on another front."

I looked up. "Another front?" I wondered aloud. "Aren't we attacking them in a line?"

Jason nodded. "The army covers the north boarder to the south," he said. "So there's only one front."

I kept reading. "You are to go to New York City and board the ship _Glorious Enterprise_," I continued. "From there you will land in Hamburg."

"Why are they going to Germany?" Hazel asked.

"I think she said hamburgers," Leo said. "What's Germany got to do with hamburgers?"

"Hamburg, genius," Piper rolled her eyes. "It's the name of a city."

"Hamburg was a Nazi naval port back in the nineteen forties," Hazel explained. "From there, they can get to anywhere in Europe."

"You think Gaea brought Hitler back?" Leo said.

"I don't think so," Jason said. "Hitler wouldn't be much use without the Nazis, and it'd be very hard for even her to keep an entire army of dead WWII soldiers hidden from mortals."

"Keep reading," Percy said. "Maybe it says what they're looking for?"

"And there you will continue on to…" my voice trailed off.

"To where?" Percy asked.

"To Rankow Prison in East Siberia of the Russian Federation, formerly the Union of Soviet Socialist Republic," I finished. "There you will await further orders."

"Russia?" Jason asked. "Why would they go all the way around the world?"

"It said something about a prison," Frank said. "Maybe something important is there?"

"Or maybe it's someone," I said.

Hazel nodded. "I remember reading about Russia," she said. "Stalin was the dictator at the time. The KGB was everywhere and they arrested people around the clock. They were a very paranoid nation back then."

"They still are," Reyna said. "Perhaps they arrested one of Gaea's escapees?"

"We'll find out soon enough," I said. "Someone get me the inmate records at this prison. If someone important is there, we'll find out who it is."

"On it," Piper said. "Leo, do your thing and hack into the prison computer."

"Has it ever occurred to you that I have feelings?" he mumbled as he followed her and Jason away to do what he needed to.

"Percy, prep the Argo II just in case," I told him. "We may need to fly to Russia even if they don't find anyone."

He nodded and started to walk away, but I called back.

"And would you send me Natalie?" I asked.

"Natalie Benjamin?" he asked. "Why do you want her?"

"She speaks Russian," I reminded him. "I think I'm going to need a crash course for our little trip."

"Alright," he said with his oh-so-familiar toothy smile.

"Y'know, I've always wanted to go to Russia," Frank said.

"Why?" Hazel asked.

"It's cold and wet," he said. "I wouldn't have to worry about burning up."

"Reyna, take them and go help Percy," I told them. "He might need it."

They ran off together, leaving me with Octavian.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Go back to your tent and lie down," I told him. "This isn't something you're cut out for."

Without waiting for his reply, I walked back into the command tent. Standing before me was a tall blonde girl, dressed in an orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt. She carried no weapon that I could see, but I knew she had to have one.

"Natalie, thanks for coming on such short notice," I told her as I sat down.

"My pleasure, Annabeth," she smiled, her brilliant blue eyes sparkling like every Aphrodite girl's did. "What do you need?"

"I need to know how to speak Russian," I sighed. "Would you mind teaching me?"

"Of course," she said, a little surprised. "But why do you need to learn Russian?"

I looked at the door to make sure no one was listening in on us before I pulled the orders letter from my back pocket. "We found these in the enemy commander's safe," I told her.

She took them and quickly skimmed them. "Why do they care about Russia?" she asked.

"We think they might be holding someone there," I told her. "And this someone has caught the Giant's attention."

"Well, it is a prison," she laughed. "Rankow…that sounds strangely familiar to me."

"It does?" I asked.

"Maybe I read about it somewhere?" she shrugged. "How soon do you need the lessons?"

"Right now," I said.

"Okay," she said. "How soon do you plan to leave?"

"By tomorrow night," I said.

She swallowed. "A…alright," she said. "Alan was going to take me out later, but I guess this is more important."

I remembered how Natalie's boyfriend, Alan, loved to spoil her. As a son of Hermes, he could get his hands on whatever she needed or wanted.

As we started the lesson, I noticed how Natalie was a very good teacher. She would say the phrase or word in English first before she switched to her Russian accent. She taught me all about the tense of addressing someone and how some words were used for informal greetings and others were formal. By the end of the day, I could speak semi-fluent Russian.

"Was that helpful?" she asked.

_"Da,"_ I said. "Did I get that right?"

_"Da, Annabeth,"_ she smiled. _"Sporkovoy nocei._"

I knew that meant "goodnight," so I nodded and watched her leave the tent. The rest of the evening was spent forging papers and documents as well as a few fake IDs in case we were caught by mortal authorities. By the time Percy came in with some dinner at six, I had finished writing everything.

"What do you think we'll find there?" he asked me as he set the tray down in front of me.

"Something useful," I said as I reached for the hamburger he'd brought me. "Something we can use against Gaea."

"That covers everything from kryptonite to an A-Bomb," he said. "Come on, Wise Girl, you have to be a little more specific than that."

"I just want to find something that will save lives," I sighed, burying my face in my hands. "I just can't take being responsible for so many deaths."

"Annabeth, you're not responsible for people's deaths," he said. "The people who died today died fighting for something…peace. Whether you called the shots or not wouldn't have made a difference. Well, I guess if you hadn't called the shots, a lot more people would have died today."

"Seaweed Brain," I sighed as he sat down next to me. "How come you always say the right things?"

He grinned. "Lots of practice, I guess," he said, rubbing the back of his head.

"Are you going to just sit there or are you going to kiss me?" I grinned.

"I hadn't given it much thought," he grinned.

Just as we were about to kiss, Leo entered with a few sheets of paper in his hand.

"Oh, sorry," he said. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Yes," I sighed. "What is it?"

"Well, it took me all day," he said. "But I finally got the inmate records of that prison in Russia."

"Anybody interesting?" Percy asked.

"Just a bunch of mafia guys and serial killers," he said as he raised the paper in his hand. "Except for this guy."

He laid the paper out on the table, displaying the prison profile photo. It displayed a young Russian man with a solemn face and blue eyes with dark circles under each eye. His gold-sandy hair was buzzed close to his scalp, giving him a genuine tough-guy look.

"His name is Nikolai Pavel Ivanovich," Leo said.

"Why is he any interest?" I asked. "You said that place was full of mafia guys and serial killers."

"But this guy isn't like that," Leo repeated himself. "Look at his full name."

I quickly read the English translation.

"He's a doctor," I said.

"You think one of the Giants is sick?" Percy asked.

"Not a medical doctor," Leo shook his head. "This guy was a physicist."

"He's right," I confirmed. "It says here he has a Ph.D. in nuclear physics."

Leo nodded. "He's one of the guys who make nuclear weapons," he said. "I read his bio ahead of time."

I flipped to the page Leo was talking about and skimmed it. "He's an expert in…high-yield experimental thermonuclear weapons?"

"Yeah," Leo said. "Now check out what he was arrested for."

Percy took the pages from me and read the sentence. He paled slightly as his eyes wandered over the words.

"Annabeth," he said slowly. "This guy was arrested for attempted acts of nuclear terrorism."

Leo nodded. "This Nikolai guy," he started. "Apparently he comes from an old communist family who served under Stalin. 'Grew up being taught all about how Russia was supposed to be Soviet until he believed it was true."

He pointed to a paragraph. "Apparently he tried to get into the army at sixteen," he continued. "But he got rejected because he was sick at the time. He went back to school 'cause he was really good at it and got a full Ph.D. at eighteen. After that, he went to work for the government decommissioning their old bombs and building better ones."

"What happened to him?" Percy asked.

"He changed," Leo shrugged. "From what I've gathered, his research was making nukes that wouldn't be so toxic or damaging. Sort of like bombs that could be used in war without killing to many people or hurting the environment just for the EMP pulses. But a few years later, he began working on a new experimental thermonuclear bomb he thought would change the world. He called it the Stalin Bomb…a weapon so powerful it could level New York City like, a hundred times over and have a fallout that would kill absolutely everything there, even cockroaches. According to some letters he wrote, he planned to give the prototype to the old Communist party so they would gain favor in the next election. They in turn, wanted to launch it at America."

He sighed. "The next part is kinda sad."

I took the papers back from Percy so I read it myself first.

"He was branded a nuclear extremist by the government," I read. "His funding was cut and he was sent to a psychiatric ward. Three weeks later, someone attacked the facility and killed everyone there. But Nikolai Pavel Ivanovich was not found among the body count."

"Three weeks later, he was caught in St. Petersburg in an old science lab," I continued. "He was making a hydrogen bomb in the basement. But according to the guys who dismantled it, it was the basic stages of his Stalin Bomb research."

"All he needed was maybe a few more weeks, a warhead, and a rocket," Leo said. "And he could have wiped out the entire east coast with one shot."

"We're going to Russia right now," I said. "We have to get to this guy before the Giants do."

"Why?" Percy asks.

I turned to him. "Think for a minute, Seaweed Brain," I said. "This man can build a bomb that could take Olympus down in a single flash and kill millions of people. He also hates America and all we stand for. If Gaea breaks him out, he'll gladly build her that Stalin Bomb to use on us."

Percy smacked his forehead and stood up. "Gather everyone we'll need," he told Leo. "We're going now."

"Now?" Leo asked.

"Yes, now," Percy said as he dragged him out of the tent. "Every second counts, gear boy. Like Annabeth says, we have to find this guy before the Giants do. If we don't, the next time we speak will be in Hades. And I have a feeling our parents will be there too."

I grabbed up all of my forged papers and the emergency travel bag I had packed. I just hoped I had things there for cold weather as we ran out and over to the river, where the Argo II was floating.

I boarded the ship, listening to Percy and Leo shouting commands at the Romans and Campers who were struggling to keep up. A few minutes later, the bronze warship lifted from the water, gaining speed and altitude. I stood at the helm with Percy as he steered the ship eastward.

"At this rate, we'll touch down in Moscow first thing in the morning," he smiled. "Leo's putting the engines into full gear as we speak."

"Great," I sighed with relief. "The sooner we get there, the better."

As the ship broke through the clouds, my mind wandered back a few years to when my dad and I were last on good terms. Before his WWI obsession, he had done a paper on the Cold War. I remembered reading it, learning about Russia, and how much of a hellhole Stalin had made it before their communism changed again. If we were dealing with the Soviets, we were in for one hell of a ride.

THAT'S A WRAP, PEOPLE. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT. IF YOU'RE A LITTLE CONFUSED ABOUT NUCLEAR WEAPONS OR ANYTHING SCIENCY, I'LL ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS VIA PM'S. READ AND REVIEW!


	2. Welcome (Back) To The Motherland

Chapter 2: Welcome (Back) to the Motherland

_Author's note: This story is going to be told from a few different perspectives. Annabeth is just one, but later in this chapter, we hear things from Dr. Ivanovich's side. BTW: There is a little bit of Percabeth fluff in here, as per request by allen r. Hope it's to your liking, dude!_

_BTW: this is a long chapter, 35 pages. Hope you all think its top stuff!_

0-0-0-0

(Annabeth)

"Gods damnit," I cursed as the storm continued to rock the ship.

As soon as we had crossed into European airspace, the temperature had dropped about twenty degrees in less than twenty seconds. I had gone below decks to huddle around a heater Leo had cooked up, since the thin windbreaker I had packed wasn't going to cut it out here.

And no sooner than I had closed the door, a blizzard picked up, rocking the flying ship with high winds and snow. Leo was busy trying to melt what was accumulating on the deck, Percy was trying to fight the storm from the wheel, Jason was trying to calm down the winds, Hazel and Frank were busy checking the armory in case we ran into any monsters, and Piper and Reyna were in the captain's cabin looking over the terrain around Rankow Prison. Which left me to sit in here in my bunk with a thermos sized heater which could barely warm up even one single cup of hot chocolate.

My teeth chattered, the clacking sound reminding me of a machine gun's rhythmic chatter. My mind started to drift around to what I knew about Russia, seeing if I could at least do something useful in here.

In October of 1917, a man named Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov, better known as V.I. Lenin, started a revolution against the Tsars of Russia. A civil war began, in which Lenin's forces, the Bolsheviks, won. The royal Tsar family was executed and Lenin was made Russia's first Communist ruler. After Lenin died, his successor was Josef Stalin. Unlike Lenin, Stalin was a ruthless and harsh man who ruled the new USSR with an iron fist. Millions of so called "traitors" were imprisoned for "crimes against the state" and executed by his order, leaving him responsible for nearly twenty million deaths. But, as a good side to his rule, his economic reforms made up for nearly a hundred years of inaction by the Tsars to modernize Russia.

A few years later, Hitler and Stalin signed a nonaggression pact between Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union, which Hitler eventually broke when the Nazis invaded Ukraine. The Soviets refused to surrender during WWII and held out against the strongest of Germany's Blitzkrieg strikes, fighting at Leningrad, Stalingrad, and Moscow through bitter cold and starvation. Once the winter ended, the Red Army chased the Germans all the way back to Berlin, where they captured the Reichstag building and killed every last German soldier without mercy.

After America dropped the atomic bomb on Japan in 1945, the Russians scrambled to build their own nuclear weapons. Soon after the first successful Soviet atomic test, the Cold War and the Arms Race began between the U.S.A. and the USSR, and time of espionage, nuclear fear, and the Cuban Missile Crisis followed closely. But after the failures in Afghanistan, the Soviet Union broke up in 1991 and became the Russian Federation.

My eyes opened and reviewed the facts that we had to consider. One: the Russians will still have suspicions about Americans from the Cold War. Two: they are a proud and strong people who will fight for what they believe in with all their strength. My conclusion: do not do or say anything insulting or something to arouse suspicion. Doing that could result in exposure, or even worse…a meeting with the KGB.

A knock came at the door.

"C-c-come i-in," I said.

The door swung open and in stepped Percy. His face and hair were completely white with snow, most of it falling to the floor as he moved.

"W-who's f-f-f-flying t-the s-s-s-ship?" I asked.

"Jason," he said.

"W-why is-is-isn't h-he c-c-c-c-calming t-the s-s-storm?" I asked.

"We're through the worst of the blizzard," he said, shaking his head like a dog. "Reyna says that we'll touch down in Severodvinsk in maybe three hours. From there, we go to Rankow by car."

"O-o-okay," I said, my entire body shivering with cold.

"You cold?" he asked.

"Y-y-you t-t-think s-s-so?" I asked, sarcastically.

"I guess you're right," he winced. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," I said, holding my jaw in place with once hand. "Why is this place so damn cold?"

"You're asking the wrong person," he smiled as he put his arms around me.

Right away, my body temperature rose. Being this close to Percy was enough to bring me out of hypothermia. He was like some kind of life-sized living hot water bottle just for me.

"How are you so warm?" I asked as I reflexively snuggled up against his body.

"I packed a winter coat," he said. "I knew we're going to Russia, and Russia's cold...common sense I guess."

I mentally beat myself over for that one. Not packing a winter coat for a trip to Siberia in December…this wasn't my finest moment.

"You can share with me," he said, unzipping the jacket and rezipping it with me inside against his chest.

"Thank you so much," I said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

He blushed hard. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked. "Let you freeze to death in here alone?"

There was a few minutes of somewhat uncomfortable silence between us as I allowed myself to get warm against Percy's chest.

"Percy…" I said, sleepily. "Why is this happening? Why are we fighting this war?"

"I'm not sure I understand," he said, kissing me lightly on the top of my head.

"I mean this whole war isn't our problem," I said. "This is between our parents and Gaea, most of which weren't even born then. Why is it up to us to fix this? Why do we have to die for their mistakes?"

"Because it's the right thing," he said. "Gaea wants to destroy the world and everything we stand for. The gods don't want to make it any worse, so we have to act in their stead."

"Mmmm," I hummed, trying to stay awake. "That's really smart, Percy. Now I understand."

He kissed my cheek and wrapped me up tighter in his arms. "Get some sleep," he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll wake you when we touch down."

And with that, I fell into a deep sleep, the knowledge that I was bound to have strange dreams prominent in my head.

And sure enough, I was right.

The next thing I knew, I was floating around in a small cement room. I turned around to see the only way out was a through the bars of the door behind me. This was a prison cell, and I was pretty sure I knew where it was.

I looked around at the cell, trying to figure out as much as I could before I woke up. Strangely, the cell was empty. There was no inmate to be found. But there was enough evidence to tell me someone had been here before.

The gray stone walls were covered with billions of drawings and sketches of things I didn't know. Whatever words were there were written in the Cyrillic Alphabet, which is Russian. But mostly there were just drawings and numbers.

"What are these?" I asked myself as I ran my fingers over some kind of math that was beyond even me.

Then my eye was drawn to something else next to the equation. It was long and cylindrical in shape with a pointed tip which faced down (and no, it wasn't anything found on the human body). The sharpie ink that had been used was faded, telling me that it was an old idea. But make no mistake, I knew what it was.

_A missile,_ I thought to myself.

I "stepped" back and looked at the whole wall. Next to that one drawing were hundreds of missiles exactly like it, all facing down. I looked at where they were facing and drew in a sharp breath at what I saw drawn on the floor.

It was New York City seen from the sky. I had been on Olympus enough to know what it looked like from above. Every detail was perfect. The Hudson and the East Rivers snaked along Manhattan like a pair of guardian snakes. In the center of the island, Central Park was a clear space with a series of paths winding through it. Wall Street, Times Square, the Chrysler building, Grand Central Station…it was all perfectly designed and labeled in Cyrillic, which somehow I could read in this dream. I wasn't freaked out about it, though. Percy had told me all about all of his dreams back in the Titan War. They were much scarier than being able to read Russian. But to all this perfect engineering and design, there was a huge catch.

But it was all destroyed.

Everything was annihilated…flattened…burned to the ground…gone. Deep craters marked where the missiles were supposed to have hit. The Empire State Building alone had three craters drawn over its foundation.

_The Stalin Bomb_, I realized, as it was the only thing that could have done this amount of fake destruction. _This is Dr. Ivanovich's cell._

I paused by the crater which had once been the Empire State Building. Written, no wait, it was _carved_ into the cement floor. There was a single sentence written in Russian. My dream translated it in a few seconds.

Она будет платить.

"She will pay," I read aloud as the dream faded into reality.

I awoke with a bump, my head hitting a hard metal ceiling. I yelped and covered my head as the car bounced along the uneven dirt road.

"Where are we?" I asked, rubbing my head.

From the driver's seat, Leo stopped the car and turned around to face me, grinning like a madman.

"Welcome to Moscow!" he said in the worst Russian accent ever.

"Wrong place, dumbass," Piper said. "This is Siberia, not Moscow."

"I know that, Beauty Queen," he said. "It's a line from a movie and I've been _dying_ to use it since we got here."

"What gear boy here meant to say, was "Welcome to Russia,"" Piper said. "Right, Leo?"

"Whatever," he said as he started the car back up.

"Where are we?" I repeated myself. "And this time, someone give me coordinates, not movie lines please."

"We just left Severodvinsk about an hour ago," Jason said. "Rankow prison is just ten minutes away, according to the map."

"Why didn't you wake me up?" I asked Percy, who was right next to me.

"You looked like you needed to sleep," he said. "And besides, I was enjoying being with you."

Leo gave a long wolf-whistle from up front, promptly followed by the sound of Piper smacking him.

"Never mind," I sighed and stared out the window at the snowy tundra of Siberia.

"It's a beautiful country," Reyna said after a while.

"It might not be for much longer," Frank said. "If Gaea gets her way, that is."

I tuned them out as they started to talk, my eyes focused solely on the snow while my mind focused solely on my dream and the drawing of New York destroyed and that one sentence.

_She will pay,_ I thought. _But who is she?_

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I followed the warden closely, the others walking right behind me. Thanks to Piper charmspeaking him, we had been able to be allowed to talk to Dr. Ivanovich in person under the guise of being journalism students doing a story on nuclear weapons. No questions had been asked by anyone, just as soon as I had coached Piper through pronouncing the Russian words she needed to say. She had also gotten us a guard who spoke English who would serve as our translator, seeing the Dr. Ivanovich didn't speak English.

Rankow prison was nice…as nice as a prison could be, that is. The bright fluorescent lights overhead destroyed out shadows as we walked down the corridor towards the conference room. We weren't being given a tour, the warden had said. Rankow was not a place that people like us should be in.

"Why did you pick Nikolai for your story?" the warden asked through our translator, who we could barely understand because of his Russian accent.

"I read that he is a leading expert in experimental thermonuclear weapons," I lied. "Seeing as those are the most powerful kind, he was the natural choice."

"I see," the warden stroked his mustache, which may I add, made him look way to much like Stalin. "Well, he was the leading expert in Russia until he came here."

"Can you tell me what he's like?" I asked.

"Of course!" the warden laughed. "Pasha and I are good friends."

"Pasha?" I asked.

"His nickname," the warden clarified. "Here in Russia, our children have nicknames based on their real names. Nikolai's middle name is Pavel, and the nickname for that is Pasha."

"Oh, I get it," Piper said. "It's like people who are named John sometimes being called "Jack," right?"

The warden nodded. "Nikolai is one of the nicest men I have ever met," he smiled. "He is a genius, not unlike your Steven Hawking. But he isn't a complete robot either. He laughs and tells jokes whenever I see him, coming up with new ones every day. My daughter, Alena, thinks the world of him. He tutors her and helps her with her math homework every night."

"He sounds like a nice man," Reyna said.

"That he is," the warden said as he opened the door for us. "He is being brought up from the weight room now. May I get you something to take the cold off?"

"Some hot chocolate would be super," Hazel said.

"And some vodka for you?" the warden asked Frank, who since he was so stocky and muscular, looked much older than eighteen.

"No, thank you," he shook his head. "I'm too young."

The warden raised his eyebrows as he called for the drinks to be brought in. As soon as he was done ordering, a voice crackled back through the speaker, telling him something.

"Nikolai should be here any second," he said.

As if on cue, the door opposite us swung open. Two guards walked in, escorting a man dressed in orange jumpsuit pants and a sleeveless muscle shirt which showed off his arms.

Nikolai Pavel Ivanovich, the man who possessed the knowledge that could destroy the gods and everything they stood for, looked nothing like his photo. His sandy-gold hair was still buzzed close to his scalp, but face was bright and happy and his blue eyes sparkled like a child's, despite the fact that he was in handcuffs. His body was no longer thin and frail, but strong and muscular. He was a fairly tall man, around six feet. But I had a feeling that he was much younger than he looked.

But what drew my attention were his arms. As I half expected from a man serving a life sentence, they were heavily tattooed with one mark on each arm. His right shoulder bore a simple, but intricately drawn red and gold hammer-and-sickle with the star above, the mark of the old Soviet Union. His left arm bore a slightly more decorated tattoo. On his left shoulder, trailing down to his bicep, was a human skull. On the skull, as if it was carved into the bone, was the radiation hazard symbol. And written around the skull in Russian was a single sentence, but it wasn't "she will pay."

As soon as he entered the room, he smiled and greeted the warden with a firm handshake. The warden returned the gesture, saying something to him that I didn't know. Behind us, another guard brought in a tray of hot chocolate as Piper had requested. As soon as the tray was on the table, everyone in the room flocked to it.

_Even the Russians don't like the cold,_ I laughed in my head as I took a mug for myself and an extra one for the doctor. I felt I could be nice to him, seeing as we weren't real enemies at least for now.

"Spasiba!" he said enthusiastically as he accepted the cup from my hands. _"Thank you very much!"_

"Pazhalusta, Vrach Ivanovich," I said before the translator could say anything. _"You're welcome, Doctor Ivanovich."_

He smiled kindly down at me. "U pa Russki," he said. _"You speak Russian."_

"Da, nimnoga," I said, shrugging a slightly. _"A little."_

"Kak vas zavut?" he asked, extending his hand. _What's your name?"_

"Minya zavut Annabeth," I said, hoping my accent wasn't that bad. _"My name is Annabeth."_

"Privet, Annabeth. Ochin' priyatna," he said. _"Hello, Annabeth. It's nice to meet you."_

He smiled as I shook his hand. He said something to the translator, who stepped forwards.

"He says that you might not understand what he has to say from her on out," he said. "I will be translating from now on."

"Okay," I said as the eight of sat down across the table from him. "Let's get started, then?"

We all nodded as the warden said something to the translator.

"You have one hour with him," he said.

"Thank you," I said as he left.

"I understand you are journalism students," Nikolai said, now speaking through the translator. "And that you are doing a story on nuclear weapons."

"Yes, we are," Piper said.

"Then how may I be of service?" he asked, smiling warmly as Reyna pretended to get ready to take notes.

"Cool tats," Leo said, completely off topic, pointing to the skull on his left shoulder. "What's it say?"

"It's a quote," he said, looking down at the words written there. "From your Dr. Robert Oppenheimer after he saw what the atomic bomb could do."

"Behold, I am death," I said without thinking. "Destroyer of worlds."

"You know your history," he smiled. "Yes, that's what it says."

"It's kind of funny," Piper said. "You do the same job as Oppenheimer."

"I used to do that," he nodded, gaining a far off look in his eyes. "But my work was slightly different."

"You mean your work with clean nukes?" I asked. "How old were you when you started that research?"

"I was nineteen," He nodded. "That was seven years ago. Two years before I came here. And about the clean nukes…think of having something like that and to actually be able to use it in war. It would change the world."

"I was just wondering," Frank asked. "How exactly does an A-Bomb work?"

"Well, there are two types of atomic bombs," he said, directing all his attention on Frank. "The plutonium bomb and the uranium bomb which work by splitting the atom by adding more electrons to it than the atom's structure can handle, causing it to split. That process is called "nuclear fission." Both of those bombs I have knowledge of, but that's not my area of expertise."

"I thought you worked with nuclear weapons?" Reyna said, scribbling away at her notepad to keep up the disguise.

"I did," he said. "But my work was with thermonuclear weapons. Thermonuclear weapons, like a hydrogen bomb, have no radioactive material in them."

"Aren't those the strongest weapons in the world?" Percy asked.

"They are," Nikolai sipped his hot chocolate. "One hydrogen bomb has the power of over ten thousand atomic bombs."

"And the fallout is much less, correct?" I said.

He nodded. "That was what I was trying to work on before," he said. "Eliminating the fallout radiation from a nuclear weapon would allow them to be used on the battlefield. No cancer, leukemia, or radiation poisoning would happen to anyone nearby. Nuclear missiles would become conventional weapons of war."

"But then you dropped that research," I said. "And you started work on magnifying the yield on thermonuclear weapons instead of decreasing it."

I leaned forwards, trying to act like a police interrogator from a cop show Percy's mom had made me watch once.

"Tell me about the Stalin Bomb, Doctor," I asked.

His eyes snapped open all the way. "How do you know about that?" he asked, his voice changing from pleasant to stern. "That was classified beyond top-secret in Russia. How do Americans children like yourselves know about the Stalin Bomb when Russian children do not know?"

I glared at Leo, who cringed. Now I knew how he had gotten that much information on the Doctor. He'd not hacked just the prison's inmate records, but the government's file on him!

"The Stalin Bomb, Doctor," Piper probably saved us all with her charmspeaking. "How does it work?"

"I guess I can tell you," he smiled, although he appeared to be unaffected by her words. "The Stalin Bomb became my life's work after I found the truth."

"And what truth was that?" Jason asked.

"That nuclear weapons are not things to use like bullets in a machine gun during a war," he said with an almost impeccable smile. "They are things to fear."

"Is that why you made the Stalin Bomb?" Percy asked.

"Da," the smile grew. "The Stalin Bomb is the most powerful explosive since the Big Bang. It is a weapon that only has to be fired once to win a battle."

"Because no one will want to fire back?" I ventured.

His lips split into a full, demonic grin.

"Because there will be no one left to fire back," he said, with an almost impeccable chuckle. "Not even a god himself can survive the blast."

I went silent, remembering the picture he had drawn on the floor of his cell. "Why were you going to give the bomb to the Communists?"

"That was my decision," he said with another twisted smile. "And my decision alone."

"Were you aware of their intended use of it?" I asked.

"Da," he said. "That's why I gave it to them."

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(Dr. Nikolai Pavel Ivanovich)

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The rest of the meeting was spent dodging their questions about the Stalin Bomb and my decision to give the prototype to the Soviets. The last time I looked at the clock, I saw they had about five minutes left and that was when they really pushed hard on me for the information that I didn't want to give them. The warden came back in a few minutes later. I was relieved at his appearance. These Americans…these…._children, _somehow knew about the Stalin Bomb. The secret that my comrades and I had fought so hard to protect was out!

_We'll need to speed up our plans,_ I thought to myself. _Time is now of the uttermost essence. _

"It was nice meeting you, doctor," said the boy with the green eyes and black hair. I think his name was Percy.

"My pleasure," I smiled, keeping up the charade. "It's always nice to have visitors once in a while."

The Russian-speaking girl, Annabeth, walked over to me and extended her hand with a smile.

"Your work sounds very exciting," she said as I shook her hand.

"It is," I told her. "Are you thinking of becoming a physicist?"

"No," she laughed. "I'd find a way to blow up half of New York City. I'm best with architecture and design."

"Those are important too," I told her. "It is your job to rebuild after disaster then?"

She nodded. "Have a nice day, Vrach Ivanovich," she smiled as the guard walked her and the others out.

As soon as the warden and I were alone, our eyes met.

"I just called Comrade Padorin about this," he said. "He's sending someone right now. You know what to do now."

"Da, Comrade Warden," I nodded. "Thank you for calling Yuri. We'll have to speed everything up now that they know."

He clasped me by my shoulders. "Pasha, please promise me something," he said, his eyes showing nothing but seriousness.

"Anything, Comrade," I said.

"Save our country," he said, shaking my shoulders. "Save the Motherland from those American capitalist bastards who seek to cripple us even further. Allow my daughter to live the way she deserves to."

"Comrade," I said. "By the time we are finished here, Alana's life will be as perfect as that of the American fat cats we despise."

He smiled and handed me the key to my handcuffs.

"For the motherland, Pasha," he said.

"For the motherland," I said with a smile as the two guards who had brought me up here entered again.

"Alright, come on," one of them said. "Time to go back to your cell, now."

I looked over my shoulder at the warden who smiled one more time at me before he left the room.

As I was led back down the steps by the guards, who had no idea of our plan, I started to hum a little in the back of my throat.

"Stop that," said the guard behind me.

I ignored him as the humming turned into whistling.

"Stop it right now," said the other guard who looked back at me from ahead.

I knew that the little power over me that they had would soon be taken away, so I had nothing to fear as I turned the tune I was whistling into the full song: the 1977 Soviet Union National Anthem, the first song my parents had taught me…and what I had sung to my family as each of them was laid to rest.

"Soyuz nerushimyy respublik svobodnykh. Splotila naveki velikaya Rus'! Da zdravstvuyet sozdannyy voley narodov. Yedinyy, moguchiy Sovetskiy Soyuz!

Slav'sya, Otechestvo nashe svobodnoye, Druzhby narodov nadyozhny oplot! Partiya Lenina — sila narodnaya Nas k torzhestvu kommunizma vedyot!"

"Shut up!" said the guard behind me as he struck me across the back with his nightstick. Soon, his partner joined in, trying to beat me into silence. "Shut up, you crazy bastard!"

I went down hard, refusing to stop singing until the song was finished. "Skvoz' grozy siyalo nam solntse svobody, I Lenin velikiy nam put' ozaril, Na pravoye delo on podnyal narody, Na trud i na podvigi nas vdokhnovil!

V pobede bessmertnykh idey kommunizma. My vidim gryadushcheye nashey strany, I krasnomu znameni slavnoy Otchizny. My budem vsegda bezzavetno verny!"

"Stop, the both of you!" said a very commanding voice from down the hallway. "Unhand the doctor now!"

We all turned to face the speaker. Once I saw who it was, I grinned.

"Comrade Doctor," said the man. "It's been a while."

"Five years, Comrade Major," I laughed. "Sergey, it's good to see you."

Sergey Kamarov, ex-major in Spetsnaz, the Russian Special Forces division, smiled back at me.

"Yuri just sent me," he said. "So I assume it's time to move now?"

"Da, and we must move quickly," I said. "The Americans know about the weapon."

He gawked. "How…who?" he stuttered, knowing how top-secret that knowledge was.

"Some children asked me about it," I said. "They said they were American journalism students doing a story on nuclear weapons."

"CIA?" he asked.

"Not even Americans would send children," I told him. "There must be something else going on."

"Da, I agree," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Until this moment, the two guards who had been beating me were silent. As soon as they got over their apparent shock, they pulled out their pistols and aimed them at Sergey's chest.

"Put your hands up!" the lead one said as his subordinate reached for a pair of handcuffs.

"That won't work," I laughed, knowing Sergey could kill these two with his little finger.

"He's right," the ex-soldier smiled. "Just put your guns down now, and I promise no one will get hurt."

"Shut up!" said the subordinate. "Put your hands up and get on your knees now!"

"Hands up?" Sergey asked. "You got it."

His right hand had been under his coat until now. As he drew his hand out to put them up, along with it came a Soviet PP-91 submachine gun with a silencer attached to the barrel.

"Nikolai, hit the deck!" he called as I threw myself to the floor and covered my head.

I heard the rhythmic chatter of silenced gunfire over my head. As soon as it stopped, I looked up to see Sergey walking over to me.

"All clear," he announced as he helped me up. He noticed the handcuffs and frowned. "You wouldn't happen to have the key, would you?"

I smiled and showed him what the warden had given me. I quickly unlocked the handcuffs as Sergey policed the guard's handguns. He handed one to me, sliding the other one under his coat along with the handcuffs.

"The extraction vehicle is just outside," he jerked his head back the way he came. "If things go bad, we'll have to fight our way out."

"I wouldn't worry about that," I said. "You remember the warden here sympathizes with us?"

"So he'll pull the guards away from our position," Sergey smiled and smacked his forehead. "And here I was sneaking around through air pipes when I could have just walked in through the front doors."

We shared a laugh as we started walking. I tucked the bulky pistol into my jumpsuit pants and walked tall alongside my friend.

"Is Yuri here?" I asked.

"Nyet, he's back in Moscow," Sergey said. "But as we speak, he's convincing the government to have you pardoned and "released" tomorrow morning."

"That's Uncle Yuri for you," I chuckled, remembering how he could get whatever he wanted.

"And I assume these Americans who know are going to be shot," he continued. "The first time we see them, they'll die."

"We can't kill them, Sergey," I reminded him. "That would be bad press for us. We don't need the authorities on us again. One life-sentence is enough for me."

"Right, right," he sighed. "I'm sorry, Nikolai. I…I'm just a little wound up about this business about the Americans knowing about the Stalin Bomb."

"Hey," I said, grabbing his shoulders and looking him right in the eyes. "Relax, alright? Soon we'll be back in Moscow…and maybe celebrate restarting the mission with a little vodka between us and our comrades."

"Okay," he exhaled hard, calming himself down.

"And as for the Americans," I said. "What can they do? They're just children?"

"But who told them?" he asked. "Did Natalia know?"

My temper flared and I threw him against the wall hard.

"DON'T EVER SAY THAT NAME AGAIN!" I yelled. "YOU UNDERSTAND? NEVER AGAIN!"

"Da, da, I understand," he said. "Pasha, forgive me…I'd forgotten all about what happened with her."

I took a deep breath and calmed down. "I'm sorry," I told him. "That wasn't right of me."

"It's fine," he said, rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the wall. "That traitorous bitch is going to pay anyway."

"Yes, she is," I said, remembering her treason against the Rodina…and her treason against me. "Natalia…the Americans…they'll all pay."

"Come on," he said. "We're wasting time."

We jogged down the corridor and past a few cells, pointing our guns at the inmates to stop them from calling out. As soon as we were clear of that, we ran out to the glass walkway that ran over the prison courtyard. We were about to cross it when I saw something down below.

"Sergey!" I hissed. "Ostanovit!" _(Stop)_

He stopped in front of me and crouched down with me. "What is it?"

"Down there," I pointed through the glass window. "It's the Americans!"

The eight children who had interrogated me were walking behind the warden in single file. The blonde Russian-speaker…Annabeth, took up the front, followed by the one who I assumed was her boyfriend, Percy. The rest of them followed him in a similar fashion, almost like little ducks following their mother.

"Get their faces," he told me, tossing me a tactical long-range camera. "Moscow will identify them."

I quickly snapped a few photos of their faces, going up the line towards Annabeth. I was just about to take her picture when she casually turned her head…and, of course, looked me right in the eye as I took the picture.

"Derr`mo!" I said as she squinted harder in my direction. _(Shit!)_

Through the high-zoom lenses of the camera, I watched as her eyes widened and she pointed at us, blowing our cover.

"Nikolai, run!" Sergey yelled as he kicked the glass with his combat boot. "Get to the extraction team now!"

The shards from that one pane fell towards the ground like giant daggers as he stuck the barrel of his PP-91 out and fired down at the Americans. They scattered like birds to any cover they could find: behind pillars, under tables, or anywhere else that offered sanctuary from Sergey's suppression fire.

"Nikolai, go now!" he yelled as the children tried to advance towards the stairs that led up here.

"Yob tvoyiu mat!" I cursed out loud at the children as I tried to think of something helpful. _(Fuck your mother)_

I thought of every single movie I had seen where the main character is in this kind of situation, even the American movies. Suddenly I had an idea. I pulled out the pistol that Sergey had taken from the guards.

"Shoot the glass!" I told him as I ran towards the nearest fuse box for the lights.

"Do what?!" he yelled over at me.

"Trust me," I said.

He did as I asked and turned his gun on the glass of the walkway. They turned into deadly sharp powder and fell on the children, who scattered again and gave me the time I needed. I thumbed the pistol's safety off and emptied the entire magazine into the fuse box, the kick of the bullet traveling through my entire body. The lights of the courtyard shorted out and overloaded, throwing sparks everywhere and flashing on and off.

"Let's go," I yelled at Sergey.

"They're just kids!" he shouted back over the hissing and snapping of the lights. "We can finish them ourselves, Nikolai."

"Sergey, they knew about the Stalin Bomb," I told him. "That's something not even Moscow was supposed to know about until I got caught. Whoever these kids are, they're stronger than they look."

He cast one look back down into the courtyard and stuck his middle finger at the blonde boy.

"Yeb vas, Amerikanski!" he shouted as the boy stood up and raised his arms. _(Fuck you, American!)_

A bolt of lightning struck the building with a loud "BOOOOOM!" The walkway shook hard and I was thrown off balance along with Sergey. But we weren't the only ones there. As I fell, something rolled past me. An American baseball hat, New York Yankees, I think. I looked at where I had come from and screamed.

"Annabeth?" I cried out in amazement.

The blonde American teenaged girl looked up at me as I pointed my empty pistol at her head. I know it wouldn't be much use if I had to pull the trigger, but she didn't know it was empty. How she had gotten up her without Sergey or I seeing her was a mystery. She would have to have been invisible to have escaped detection.

"Sergey, we have company," I told him as we got to our feet.

"Grab her," he said, throwing me the handcuffs I had been in when he had killed the guards. "Use her as a hostage."

I quickly handcuffed her hands behind her back and kicked her hat off the edge of the walkway. Sergey dragged her to her feet and handed me his pistol, which was fully loaded.

"Move," I told her, pushing the barrel of the gun into the back of her head.

She struggled and kicked at my shins as I pushed her forwards down the hall, Sergey and I staying behind her so as to use her as a human shield.

"Why are you escaping?" she asked in Russian.

"I don't want to be here?" I said, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't that why people break out of jail."

"How did you escape?" she said.

"I have friends in high places," I grinned.

"The police will be looking for you," she grinned back. "And so will my friends. You won't finish your Stalin Bomb, Vrach Ivanovich."

"Don't count on it," Sergey said, firing a quick burst of gunfire down at her friends below. "Tomorrow, Moscow will announce that Nikolai was unjustly accused of his crimes and given a full pardon. No one in Russia will be looking for him other than to get his forgiveness."

"But for now," I said, wrapping the chain of the handcuffs around the doorknob of the exit. "You are going to stay right here."

"Annabeth!"

I looked to the other end of the hallway to see Percy standing there like an idiot who realized that his girlfriend was in the hands of two men with guns.

"Nikolai, kill him!" Sergey said.

"Da," I said and fired two shots at him.

Percy ducked back behind the stairwell as the bullets streaked past him. The second it was safe, he jumped back out carrying a bronze shield and a sword.

"What the…?!" I said as Sergey pulled me through the doorway and slammed it shut.

"Did you see that?" he asked as he bolted it shut.

"Fucking yes, I saw that!" I screamed. "Where the hell did he get those?"

"And how did the girl sneak up on us?" he asked as we started down the staircase to the parking lot, keeping our guns trained on the doorway.

"I don't know," I shook my head. "But I'm just glad no one died."

Sergey looked at me funny.

"Being around people who killed and felt remorse," I tried to save myself. "They say it's horrible. I don't want that on my conscience."

"But the Stalin Bomb will kill them all," he said.

"Da, but I won't have to see it myself," I told him.

A few steps later, we emerged out into the snowy and white tundra of Siberia. I sucked in a breath and exhaled it hard as one of the men Sergey had left to secure the vehicle handed me a thick coat. The others fanned out with their assault rifles, making sure no one would follow us until we were all in the cars.

"I haven't seen daylight in five years," I told him as three armored hummers pulled around to us.

"You'll be seeing much more of it now," the soldier smiled at me. "Welcome back to the Motherland, Comrade Doctor."

"It's great to be back, Comrade," I told him as I got into the passenger's seat with Sergey.

As the car pulled out the front gates, I saw the door open and the Americans flood out. Percy was first, then the blonde one with the lightning who was now also carrying a sword.

I nodded at them as we rolled out onto the dirt road.

_Not this time,_ I thought as we left Rankow Prison behind.

"You're a free man now, Pasha," Sergey smiled. "May I ask you a question, though?"

"Of course," I said.

"Why were you singing the national anthem?" he asked.

I laughed. "It just wanted to come out," I told him.

"You sounded terrible," he teased. "My son, Gregiory can sing better than that."

"I'll have to ask him about that when we get to Moscow," I laughed.

In the seats behind us, the men in the car started to sing the anthem themselves. Then over the radio in Sergey's pocket, we heard the men in the two cars behind us singing as well. Their voices blended together perfectly, sounding just like the Red Army Choir. I looked at Sergey and shrugged.

"If you can't beat 'em," I said.

"Join 'em!" he finished as he picked up in the song.

I grinned and started singing along to my country's true song, remembering how our plan would make this the world's anthem. Our voices blended together perfectly as we praised our nation and our forefathers for making it such.

_They deserve the praise,_ I thought proudly as I remembered my grandfather, who had fought the Fascists in the Great Patriotic War all those years ago.

Soon afterwards, my father, my mother, and my older brother Vasily all followed in praise.

_A new world is coming;_ I sent my thoughts out to them. _The world we all dreamed of. Grandfather, Father, Vasily... What you worked so hard for will become reality…._

_And Natalia will not be there to see it._

THAT'S A WRAP, PEOPLE! TO ALLEN R, I HOPE THE FLUFF WAS TO YOUR LIKING. ON ANOTHER NOTE, I AM HAVING A CONTEST. THE LINE THAT LEO SAID IN THE CAR: "WELCOME TO MOSCOW." IF YOU CAN TELL ME WHAT MOVIE THAT LINE WAS FROM, YOU CAN DESIGN A CHARACTER, A DEMIGOD OR A SOVIET, AND I WILL USE HIM/HER IN THE STORY!

SO NIKOLAI HAS ESCAPED AND REJOINED THE SOVIETS WITH A VENGENCE TOWARDS AMERICA AND SOMEONE NAMED NATALIA, THE STALIN BOMB IS RESUMING ITS COMPLETEION AS WE SPEAK, AND THE RUSSIANS NOW KNOW WHO THE DEMIGODSS ARE! TUNE IN NEXT CHAPTER TO SEE HOW ANNABETH AND FRIENDS RETALIATE TO THIS.

AGAIN, IF YOU'RE CONFUSED, JUST PM ME AND I'LL EXPLAIN.

**REVIEW PLEASE, IT MAKES MY DAY AND MAKES ME WRITE!**


	3. Plans And Action

Chapter 3: Plans and Action

**Author's Note: Privet, Comrades! I am sending this chapter from Orlando, Florida while I am on Spring Break. I have worked long and hard on this chapter, which is thirty-one pages long and filled with action. Here we see so much come together…and so much destroyed. Read and find out what happens!**

**Also: The contest from the last chapter is still going on. If you can tell me which movie the quote "Welcome to Moscow!" comes from by chapter 5, I will include an OC character in the story. Good luck, Comrades!**

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(Annabeth)

The trip back across the Atlantic had been smooth this time and I was thankful for that. I stood on the Argo II's deck with Percy as he steered the ship, playing yesterday's events over in my head.

"Are you okay?" Percy asked me, throwing a concerned glance in my direction.

"Yeah, yeah," I said, rubbing my eyes. "I'm fine."

"A lot happened," he said, looking out at the sea below.

"You can say that again," I laughed. "We're all lucky we weren't killed."

"I think I could have taken them," Leo said as he walked up to the deck with a bunch of papers in his hands.

"Two things," I said. "One, the person who broke Nikolai out was carrying a submachine gun and he knew how to use it. That alone would have killed you in a few seconds. And two…"

I punched him hard on the shoulder.

"Ow, what was that for!?" he whined as he rubbed his arm.

"For hacking into the Kremlin's files," I said. "You almost got us killed with that little stunt."

"No I didn't," he said. "They started shooting when you opened your big mouth and pointed at him."

"Both of you stop it now!" Reyna said as she walked up to the helm. "Leo, Annabeth's right. Hacking the Kremlin, whatever that is, nearly got us exposed."

"Fine, sorry," he muttered and handed Reyna the papers. "Here's the list of Dr. Ivanovich's known associates."

"Nothing confidential, I hope," she muttered under her breath as she started reading.

"Tell me what's there," I said.

"Okay," she said. "Dr. Nikolai Pavel Ivanovich, Ph.D., has no living relatives."

"What?" I exclaimed. "He's only twenty-six, so he should have _some_ family left."

"His grandfather was assassinated by the Russian Mafia when he was ten," she said. "They used an American rifle to cover their tracks. His grandmother was poisoned by the same crime family two years later, and again they used an American drug for the same reason."

"What about his father and his mother?" I asked.

"They were killed by a car bomb by Chechen terrorists when he was twelve," she said. "The bomb was an American one, bought on the black market. His older brother, Vasily, raised him the rest of his life."

"Where's Vasily?" Percy asked.

"He's dead," she said. "He was a combat pilot for the Russian Air Force. And judging from his records, he was one of their aces."

"Did his plane crash?" Percy asked.

"He was shot down," she shook her head. "A joint training exercise with the American Air Force went wrong. One of the American pilots accidentally achieved a missile lock on his plane and fired. Vasily was killed instantly in the blast."

She looked up, her eyes slightly wet. "His last words over the radio," she said. "Were "tell my brother that I'll miss him.""

We all stayed silent for a moment, imagining what that must have been like for the young Nikolai. His family had been killed off methodically until he had no one else for comfort. I couldn't bear the thought of having my parents killed, although for mom it would take a lot more than a bullet.

"What happened to him afterwards?" Leo asked.

"After that, his father's best friend took him in. A man named Yuri Padorin," she said. "He worked for the KGB before it turned into the SVR. He works there now, and it appears that he's one of the high-up guys."

"So what does that mean?" Percy asked.

"Only one thing," I said.

"And that is that the KGB or SVR had a hand in Nikolai's escape," Reyna said. "This problem in Russia could very well be bigger than we expected."

"_Problem?"_ Piper said as she and Jason came up to the help. "Did you just say this was a _problem_? Reyna, we were just shot at by some trained Russian killer, Annabeth nearly got taken away, and now we have a nuclear terrorist on the loose who wants to blow up New York and kill our parents!"

I winced. Having filled them in on my dream was turning out to have not been a good idea after all.

"Piper, calm down," Jason told her.

"No, you need to start freaking out!" she said. "This is a disaster!"

"Piper, shut up!" I shouted as loudly as I could. "All of you just shut up right now!"

I stood, my chest heaving as I fought for breath. Everyone backed away from me like they were afraid I would explode.

"Piper's right, this is a disaster," I said. "But we can still prevent it before it's too late. We need to find Dr. Ivanovich and stop him before he builds that bomb."

I turned back to Leo. "What was the father's friend's name?" I asked.

"Yuri Padorin," he said.

"Find out who he's talking to," I said. "We need to know everything as soon as we can."

"We'll have to tell the others," Reyna said. "Even Octavian."

"We tell them all," I said. "Percy, when we get back, find someone who knows how to perform a duck and cover and teach it to everyone."

"Why?" he asked.

"What if they decide to launch against California after New York?" I said. "We need to teach the Campers and Romans how to be safe outside a fallout bunker. Even though I'm sure that wouldn't do them any good if they decided to bomb New Rome."

"Alright," he said. "I ask some of the veterans if they know how to do it."

"Jason," I said to him. "Call Thalia and tell her about this. Tell her to have the hunters in New Rome by the time we land."

"On it," he nodded.

"Reyna, call Queen Hylla," I said. "We need as many people as we can get. The Russians will have a harder time dealing with the Amazon's than they will with just the people on this ship."

"I'll see they come at once," she nodded.

"Piper, go below decks and calm down," I told her. "We need you in the right frame of mind for this job.

She was hyperventilating, so all she could do was wheeze and nod as she turned to go back to her cabin. Everyone went off to send an Iris message, hack files, or breathe into a paper bag.

"And me," I said to myself as I followed Piper below and went into the tactical command center and started pouring over the map of Russia we had. "I've got to figure out where the bomb maker actually is."

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(Dr. Nikolai Pavel Ivanovich)

(The Kremlin, Moscow)

As I walked besides Sergey, I couldn't help but be in awe of the Kremlin. The high ceilings and colorful outsides made it look like a palace for a god. But inside, it was just even more magnificent.

"There will be a press conference," Sergey told me. "Putin is going to formally apologize for your sentence and pardon your crimes."

"I can't wait," I grinned. "To have that bastard admit their government was wrong in its decision making…no doubt this will help us win the public's favor."

"No doubt about it," Sergey nodded with a smile. "I just wish they'd reinstate me to Spetsnaz."

"Sergey, you're doing a much more important job now," I told him. "You're protecting the world's only hope to overcome the American's tyranny."

"You?" he asked with a chuckle. "Then Rossiya is doomed."

After we had gotten back to Moscow, Uncle Yuri had left a letter, in which he appointed Sergey as my bodyguard for his outstanding work at Rankow. He was to go with me everywhere, and always be armed and ready. I was capable of handling myself in a fight, but Uncle Yuri was more insistent that I have a trained professional soldier with me instead of a pistol that I would more likely shoot myself in the foot with than shoot an American.

"I still think you're too old for a babysitter," he said to me as we neared the press room.

I just smiled at him, my best friend since grade school, as the doors opened and a man walked out, his outline blurred by the series of camera flashes going off behind him. I hadn't seen him in five years, so I admit I cried a few tears of joy.

"Welcome home, Nikolai," said the man as he hugged me.

"Uncle Yuri," I said. "It's good to be home."

My godfather stood back and looked at me with a smile, his dark eyes glittering with admiration and pride.

"Look at you," he said. "I think you grew."

I laughed and wiped my eyes of my tears. "Prison was helpful after all," I said.

He hugged me again, this time subtly slipping something into my blazer pocket. "I will see you back at the house," he said. "One piece of advice before you go in there, boy."

"What is it, uncle?" I asked.

"Don't look at the camera flashes," he smiled as he walked away to go home.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the thing he had put in my pocket. It was a note.

_We know who they are,_ it said.

I grinned again. The SVR had identified the Americans who had attacked me. Now it was only a matter of time before we could act.

The press conference was agonizingly long and stressful. Too many flashes and questions overwhelmed me. Even when Vladimir Putin himself apologized, all I wanted was to go home and have some vodka with my comrades. Finally, when it was over, I nearly stumbled out of the Kremlin and into the car. Sergey was already there waiting for me in the driver's seat.

"Ready?" he asked. "Now we move out."

The car started and we sped down to Uncle Yuri's house at the other end of the city. As we drove, the snow started to fall more lightly, allowing me to see the street clearly. I stared out the window nonchalantly as we passed the statue of Soviet cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin, remembering the city I had been born in.

_And her,_ I thought.

I only seemed like yesterday that Natalia Ilyich Borodin had been among my closest friends. She had also been my tutoring student, high school crush, and prom date. Furthermore…I had loved her with all my heart.

She had joined us, sworn allegiance to the Motherland and all we hoped to bring back to Russia. She had gone to America to be our spy, trained by Uncle Yuri himself in the techniques of the KGB. She had been successful in her intelligence gathering, telling us exactly what was going on in New York City as I began to build the first of my experimental nukes: the Lenin Bomb. It was an EMP nuke that had no fallout or any kind of concussive blast. We were going to use it to wipe the disks of their Wall Street clean and transfer the funds to Moscow. No one would get hurt and no wars would be started over a computer failure.

Before she left, she had made me promise to call her every night and send letters whenever I could. I had given her my word that I would do that as she boarded the plane to America. And for three years, aside from my research, that's all I would do: write her letters and call her every night after work. She told me what America was like and I told her what life was like back in Moscow. A few years passed and nothing really happened out of the ordinary except the terrorist attacks on their World Trade Center. But before I knew it, everything changed.

She stopped responding to my letters and my phone calls. I did everything I could to contact her. I went to her father to get him to do something, I went to the American consulate in Moscow to see if they could connect me, I even had Uncle Yuri send a backup spy to America to find her! But nothing happened.

So I made a decision, one that would change my life. I bought a plane ticket to America and packed a suitcase for a few days in the United States. I also went down to the finest jewelry store in Moscow and picked out a diamond ring from a Siberian mine. I would ask her to marry me when I saw her, after a date to go to an American movie, eat some American food, and maybe go dancing to American music. Basically enjoy America before it ended. Natalia Ilyich Borodin…I hoped that she would say yes to me. But like one of the happy endings in the fairytales that grandfather had told me wasn't true, neither was this.

Five minutes after I got home that night, I got a call from her. I rushed to the phone and picked it up, eagerly saying hello and why she hadn't called me sooner.

"YOU BASTARD!" was all I heard from her side of the phone.

She ran on, telling me that I was a son of a bitch and that I was to never call her again. She had found someone in America who was better than me and that she was never returning to Moscow. She hung up shortly after that, cursing my name. I was just stunned…to stunned to even move.

For eleven days, I stayed in complete solitude, only eating and drinking when I thought I might pass out from hunger or thirst. I had read that Josef Stalin had done the same thing after he discovered that Hitler had betrayed him, stayed locked in a room with nothing for eleven days…days that served me well the same as it had served him. It allowed me to think clearly without my feelings clouding my judgment.

I realized that Natalia had betrayed the motherland, betrayed her countrymen, and betrayed me. Such actions warranted a bullet for State Treason. So, Uncle Yuri and I decided that she would have her bullet. She and the rest of the Americans would pay for what they had taken from us over the years.

Natalia's father was arrested for State Treason and sent to Siberia. He died there while I was in prison from a brain hemorrhage, induced by a nine-millimeter bullet in the back of his head. With all the loose ends tied up, I set to work.

The first thing I did was erase my work on the Lenin Bomb, and start on the Stalin Bomb. Boosting the yield to flatten everything within the blast radius was tricky, but not impossible, so it was done. Working with the fallout was a little harder. It had to be so toxic that it would kill all the capitalist gods that lived above their Empire State Building. I had worked that part out in my cell back at Rankow. But that still didn't soothe my broken heart from where Natalia and her new American boyfriend had broken it.

"We're here," Sergey said as the car slowed to a stop.

I got out and walked in the doors of Uncle Yuri's private two-story apartment. It was a nicer one, coming with his high position in the SVR. Uncle Yuri's living quarters were on the first floor, the second floor was our headquarters. It consisted of a meeting room, a small arms closet in case of an attack, and a communications post with secure lines to all our forces around the world. The post was staffed by a team of highly trained officers, loyal to the Motherland first and Uncle Yuri second. I had finished high school here, as well as college. I knew it so well that I considered it my second home. I wanted an apartment just like it.

_Perhaps I will have one someday?_ I thought to myself as I followed Sergey inside the briefing room. _And perhaps I will receive a Hero of the Soviet Union* after this is all done as well?_

"Nikolai, come in!" Uncle Yuri smiled, pointing to my chair that was to his immediate right. "Look, Comrades…our greatest mind has returned home.

Around the room, the leaders of our cause rose and greeted me. I knew most of them personally, and had at least seen the faces of the others within the government. All of them stood at rapt attention as they welcomed me back to the Soviet Union.

"Alright, now to business," Uncle Yuri said. "Comrades, we have a problem regarding the Americans. The problem is that they are now aware of our activities with the Stalin Bomb, but we do not know the extent of what they are aware of."

There were murmurs of agreement around the table.

"How do we solve this problem?" asked one, I think he was a Captain in the St. Petersburg Police.

"Well, we already have them identified," said Uncle Yuri as he turned on a projector, showing the face of the green-eyed boy, Percy.

"This is Perseus Jackson," he said. "Age sixteen. His mother, Sally, holds an apartment in New York with her boyfriend, a man named Paul Blofis. His blood father appears is Poseidon. Comrades, he is not someone to take lightly, judging by his combat record. He defeated the Titan Lord, Kronos, in single combat twice during that fiasco last August in Manhattan."

"So we take him out first," Sergey said as most of us, including me, sniggered at the name of the boyfriend. "One sniper and Boom! No more trouble from Jackson. We can get a message to CARDINAL in just a few."

"It's not that easy," Uncle Yuri said, interrupting him. "Killing him doesn't cut off the snake's head."

He flicked to the next slide.

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(Annabeth)

(New Rome)

I surveyed the room of demigods, Hunters, and Amazons. It wasn't going to be easy to break this to them. Being threatened by Gaea and the Giants was one thing. Being threatened by the Soviet Union with the most powerful weapon in history, more powerful than Zeus's master bolt, was an entirely different ball game.

"Are we all here?" I asked Thalia.

"Yeah," she said. "So what Giant are we going after this time?"

"I'll tell you in a second," I said.

I walked to the front of senate room and stood on the podium. I nodded at Leo, who was going to be operating the projector and lights. He gave me a thumbs up and the lights dimmed. The room fell silent and all eyes turned to me.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," I said. "And I am afraid that I am the bearer of very bad news."

Leo turned on the projector and a picture of Dr. Ivanovich filled the back wall.

"A few days ago," I said. "We found out that Gaea intended to send a massive army to Russia to find this man. His name is Dr. Nikolai Pavel Ivanovich and he is currently the world's leading expert in high-yield thermonuclear weapons. After defeating Gaea's army at St. Louis, we flew to Russia to where Dr. Ivanovich was serving a life sentence in prison for attempted acts of nuclear terrorism. He was building something called the Stalin Bomb…a weapon so powerful that it rivals Zeus's Master Bolt in strength."

I paused for a breath. "This bomb," I said. "Can kill an immortal…permanently. That was what it was designed for: to destroy Olympus."

There was a collective gasp through the room.

"Ivanovich was going to give the prototype to the Russian Communist party," I continued. "They in turn wanted to launch it against America. But he was sent to jail before he could finish the bomb. We don't know where it is, but…"

The slide changed to the man who had broken Ivanovich out of Rankow. "We know that Ivanovich was broken out of jail two days ago by this man. His name is Sergey Kamarov, and he is an ex-major in Spetsnaz."

"What's Spetsnaz?" asked one of the Romans.

"Their equivalent of Navy SEALS," I said. "Kamarov is a trained assassin, capable of killing anyone and anywhere. He is also, apparently, best friends with Dr. Ivanovich. The two of them have known each other since they were little."

I heard a sharp gasp from my right, where the campers were sitting. I paid no attention to it, focusing more on presenting my warning.

"This morning, Ivanovich received a full pardon by the Russian government," I said. "Mortal authorities all around the world are no longer looking for him and we believe it's all because of this man…"

Leo changed the slide.

"Yuri Padorin," I picked up from where I had left off. "He's Dr. Ivanovich's godfather and his only family. He works for the SVR, which was until recently, the KGB. He is head of a rouge Soviet faction dedicated to the destruction of America and the return of the Soviet Union. We believe that he manipulated the government to get Ivanovich pardoned."

"Excuse me, Annabeth," said Queen Hylla. "What exactly are we dealing with?"

"Your majesty, what we are dealing with is pretty much every Russian with a gun who hates America," I said. "The inner circle of this Soviet faction consists of Ivanovich, Padorin, Kamarov, six Red Army generals, two Red Air Force Colonels, the captain of a Typhoon-Class ballistic missile submarine, the head of KGB, the SVR, and about seventy percent of their government officials who can legally authorize a nuclear attack on America. Their President, Vladimir Putin, is not officially part of this group, but he supports it secretly with government resources, despite the fact that to them he is considered to be a complete idiot. So to sum up your question, your majesty, we are dealing with something very big and dangerous right here."

Silence, but I heard a faint sobbing from the camper's section.

"What would be their target?" Thalia asked.

"The same as Gaea's," I said. "New York City and Olympus."

"So are they working with Gaea?"

"No," I said. "I think she's going to lay low for a while…let the Soviets destroy Olympus for her. I also think she might be afraid of this new Stalin Bomb."

"Why would she be afraid?" Hylla said, standing angrily with both fists on the table. "She controls the earth. She could kill these men in an instant just by making the uranium in their bomb explode!"

"The Stalin Bomb isn't an atomic weapon," I said as calmly as I could. "It's a thermonuclear hydrogen bomb, which contains no uranium, plutonium, or anything radioactive. It's detonated by hydrogen reacting inside the warhead."

"Annabeth, I speak Greek, Latin, and English fluently," Hylla said. "But I did not catch one word that came from your mouth. Please say that in a language that I can understand."

"That means there is no element in the bomb that comes from the ground aside from the steel that is in the casing," I snapped, rather rudely at first, but I quickly corrected myself, knowing I was speaking to a queen. "Gaea can't manipulate it and she would naturally be afraid of it since it can kill her and she can't defend herself against it without waking up completely."

Hylla calmed down, shaking her head. "Can we even win this fight?" she asked aloud.

"She's right," said Thalia. "Annabeth, this will be like trying to fight a modernized and well-equipped army with sticks. It can't be done in a way that allows us to win."

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing she was right but not wanting to admit it.

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(Moscow)

"The people you see here now are less important to us," said Uncle Yuri as Sergey passed me a bottle of vodka and a tumbler. "Their names are Reyna, Piper McLean, Jason Grace, Hazel Lévesque, Frank Zhang, and Leo Valdez. While they are our enemies, they are no large concern to us. They can be defeated quite easily."

"Excuse me, Uncle," I said. "What about Annabeth?"

"I'm getting to that now, Nikolai," he said as the picture changed to the picture I had taken at Rankow. "Aside from Perseus Jackson, this is our primary concern. Annabeth Chase. We know that she is in a relationship with Jackson, but the main problem is that she has a tactical mind that rivals that of the Fascisti General Erwin Rommel." _(Fascist)_

We all knew the stories of the infamous "Desert Fox," who had pushed the Allies over a thousand miles back away from their most fortified positions in a few hours during the Great Patriotic War.

"So we have a sniper take her out," I said as I filled the tumbler with vodka. "One bullet is all it takes to secure our victory."

"That's where we have a problem," Uncle Yuri sighed. "The Americans have recently tightened their gun-control laws. Getting a sniper rifle or any weapon suited to that job to our comrades undercover without starting an investigation could take months. Ms. Chase will live for the moment, but she will meet with an unfortunate and fatal accident the second she leaves American borders."

We all clapped and smiled, knowing that if Annabeth stayed in America, she could do next to nothing. But if she tried to go to the front lines, she would be killed in an instant. I toasted Uncle Yuri with my tumbler before I downed all the vodka in one gulp.

"So, Comrades," asked Captain Ustinov. "What is our next move?"

"We recover the Stalin Bomb prototype, of course," said the captain of the Moscow Police.

"We can't do that now. It was destroyed, remember?" said a government official.

"I couldn't allow that to happen, Comrade," said the police captain. "I had it shipped to Cuba the second it fell into my jurisdiction."

"Where is it?" I said, standing up. "We have to get there right now!"

"Patience, Comrade Doctor," said the captain. "Comrade Cortez is holding it for us now. It is quite safe in his warehouse in Havana."

"Havana?" I said, gathering my coat and preparing to leave. "Good, I will leave for Cuba at once, Comrades. I will see if the prototype is still in working order. Sergey, let's go."

"Hold on," Uncle Yuri grinned. "We haven't discussed our opposition yet."

He turned back to table as I returned to my seat.

"Comrades, our half-breed American enemies have a force of nearly twenty-five thousand troops," he said. "All of which are young children or aged veterans. The soldiers of the Red Army will have no trouble should they enter combat. Also, they cling to the ancient ways and have armed themselves with swords, spears, bows, and other obsolete weapons."

We all laughed and drank together, even Uncle Yuri had some vodka with us for comradeship's sake.

"Only twenty-five thousand?" asked one of the Generals (his name I forget). "And they are only armed with sticks? Comrades, if I may make a suggestion, I move that we bomb their bases now and eliminate any threat of opposition."

"Comrade General," Sergey said. "We do not know their air or artillery capabilities yet. We could be sending our pilots to their deaths. Comrade Padorin, do we have any satellite images of their base?"

"Comrade Major, I am afraid we do not have specific images yet," he sighed. "But we do have locations of where they might strike from."

He turned the image to a map of America, with a few cities circled in red. I recognized New York right away, the place where Natalia had gone.

"They have only two large bases," said Uncle Yuri. "One is in New York; the other is in California, located close to Mt. Diablo. If they were to attack us, the New York Base could be used to launch an air assault on Moscow or our secret base in Kiev. Their California base could be used to land an invasion force in Siberia and travel westward until they pinned us against two fronts."

"What is their air capability?" asked one of the Red Air Force Colonels.

"One," said Uncle Yuri. "We do not have a specific photograph, but CARDINAL believes that it is some kind of flying battleship, powered by their magic. It has air and sea capabilities and is heavily armed, but it is very slow."

"So our fighters could ground it in an instant," said the same Colonel.

"And they will," said Uncle Yuri. "Keep your finest planes on standby. If this weapon is deployed into Russian air space, scramble the jets to engage and destroy."

"Da, Comrade Padorin," said both Colonels as they left to give the orders.

"Wait a minute," said the general who had spoken before. "Comrades, we need to include the possibility of a first strike assault on them. We know where they are and we know they only have one ship-plane. Comrade Padorin, we must act now and eliminate as much of the opposition as we can before they can mobilize."

"I agree," said Captain Ustinov. "We must scramble our jets now while we have the chance."

"Very well," Uncle Yuri sighed. "Comrade Colonel, send one squad of fighters to their California base. Tell them to do as much damage as they can. Here are the go-codes for the attack. You may verify them with the Kremlin if you wish to, but I assure you, Comrade, they are authentic."

He handed the Colonel a slip of paper with codes inscribed all over it. The Colonel took it and slipped it into his briefcase.

"At once, Comrade Padorin," they saluted and walked off towards the communications post to send the orders.

"Well, now that's taken care of," Sergey smiled.

"Da, but what about the Stalin Bomb?" I asked. "We must recover it right away. I never finished the prototype and it has yet to be tested properly."

"We already have that covered, Nikolai," said Uncle Yuri. "In two days, you and Sergey will fly to Cuba and meet with Comrade Felix Cortez and recover the Stalin Bomb. After that, you will go to the Bright Star Missile Factory near Volgograd* and finish building the bomb."

"Fitting," I laughed. "The Stalin Bomb will be completed at the place of its namesake's rise."

"What about protection?" Sergey asked. "If the Americans knew about the Stalin Bomb, then they are sure to know about Bright Star."

"Already taken care of that as well," said another general. "The factory is being protected by the Third Shock Army's 150th Rifle Division. Nothing short of an air strike can bring it down."

"Good," Sergey said as I poured myself another tumbler full of vodka. "I wonder if our American friends are going to like to their little present from the Red Air Force."

We all laughed at that thought.

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(Lance Corporal Grigoriy Konstantinovich Dalmatov, Call Sign: Hammer-3)

(A Soviet MiG-35 fighter jet, three minutes out from the West Coast of America)

"Three minutes out," I heard over the radio. "Ready your missile guidance systems for attack."

"Da," I said as I flicked off the safeties on my guns and missiles. "Going hot, Comrades."

The American coastline blossomed into view in front of me. We had just left the Soviet aircraft carrier _Kirov_ half an hour ago, so we were all itching to begin our attack on the Americans.

"Alright, squad, check in," said Hammer-1.

"Hammer-2, standing by."

"Hammer-3, standing by," I said.

"Hammer-4, standing by."

"Hammer-5, ready to go, Comrades!" Five said.

"Adjust course," said Hammer-1. "Comrades, we must not fly within range of the American Naval Base south of here."

"Is Moscow sure of our new cloaking devices?" I asked.

"Affirmative, Hammer-3," said Hammer-2. "The American's can't see us unless they actually look straight at us."

"Got it," I said. "Adjusting course, now. ETA to Berkeley Hills is now thirty seconds."

"For the Motherland, Comrades," said Hammer-5."

"For the Motherland!" we all said as we dove beneath the clouds.

Right away, a massive city opened up beneath us. It seemed to go on and on forever, stretching across the entire valley. Beyond the city limits was an equally massive military encampment. I heard Hammer-4 gasp at the sight, as it was a beautiful city.

"Wow," he breathed. "How do they manage to hide this from the Americans?"

"With their pagan capitalist magic," Hammer-5 spat.

"Forget that, Comrades," I said. "We have a job to do."

"Da, Three is right," said Hammer-1. "Okay, Two and Three, follow me and bomb the military base. Four and Five, target the largest buildings in the city and turn them into dust. And use everything you have, Comrades. Good luck."

I banked hard and dove down towards a row of tents. My finger gripped the trigger hard as my .30 mm autocannon thundered, tracer rounds tearing the tents apart. Confused and startled soldiers stumbled about as they were cut down by my fire.

"URAH!" I shouted the battle cry of the Red Army as continued to gun down the troops from above. I hit something flammable, causing an explosion which led to a fire raging through the barracks. "Take this, you American motherfuckers!"

The fire spread quickly and soon about thirty percent of the military camp was ablaze and rising.

"Strafing run has good effects," I said. "Comrades, destroy as much equipment as you can."

"Copy that, Hammer Three," said Two as he started a strafing run on their armory.

"Three, you have a group of boogies coming at your six," said One. "Do you need us to engage them?"

"Negative, Hammer One," I said as I banked hard to the right. "I will take care of them myself."

I saw my attackers were riding the flying horses from their mythology. In their arms were spears and bows, as if they thought they could bring me down with wood alone. I grinned and opened the throttle to full. The MiG shot forwards through their formation, breaking them and sending them crashing down as their horses died in the jet wash from the engine.

"Boogies are neutralized," I reported. "Continuing bombing run."

I flicked the switch to arm my missiles. I only had four of them, so I needed to pick an important target to destroy before I ran empty.

"Mayday, mayday!" I heard Four yell over the radio. "I'm hit! Going down!"

I looked just in time to see Hammer-4 hit the ground with a massive explosion. I barely had any time to think before I heard Hammer-1 warn me.

"Three, watch out!"

I did a barrel roll just in time to avoid a flaming spear the size of one of my missiles. The projectile flew past with a high-pitched whistling sound, burying itself in the burning wreckage of the barracks.

I looked back to find out what had fired. The ground was clear of any functioning artillery, thanks to the strafing run and the fire.

"If it's not on the ground," I realized as I looked up. "By Lenin…"

An ancient Greek battleship, made entirely of bronze, hovered above the carnage. Its deck bristled with all kinds of small artillery and weapons, and the rotating ballista on the bow was getting ready to fire again. I watched as the ballista's crew loaded and set fire to the missile they were going to send my way.

"Three, kill that fucker!" One ordered with a snarl.

"Engaging," I announced as I pulled back on the stick.

The MiG climbed high, far out of range of their weapons, but not out of range of mine. I let out a deep breath as I dove back down to engage the ship. I yelled another battle cry as I fired my autocannon as I dove down. I'd be dammed if I couldn't sink this thing myself.

The .30 mm rounds tore through the bronze hull plates and deck, scattering the crew as Soviet lead whittled their ship apart. I emptied all my ammunition into the ship before veering off to make another run on the ship.

"Good shot, Three!" said One. "Target is smoking and I think I can see a fire burning on the lower deck. Disengage now and return to the _Kirov_ for additional tasking."

"Negative, Hammer One," I said. "Request permission to continue the engagement. Comrade, I have four missiles to use. That thing shot down Hammer-4…I would like to repay them in kind."

"Do it, Three," One said. "You're right, we must avenge our Comrade. You are clear to reengage the enemy."

"Spasiba," I said as I flicked over to my missiles. "Comrades, keep them off me until I can get a missile lock."

"Da," said Five. "We'll keep them busy for you, Three."

"Form up," Two said. "Escort formation, protect Hammer-3."

My comrades aligned their planes as my targeting system started to set up a positive missile lock on the flying ship. The crew seemed to sense what we were doing and the flying ship started to move off, trying to escape our retribution for Hammer-4. I watched as the targeting reticle zoomed in on the ship as it flew over the river that flowed next to the capitalist's city. The system beeped a second later, confirming the missile guidance to target was locked in.

"Missile lock acquired," I said. "Firing!"

I pressed the trigger four times. There was a bump that reverberated through the cockpit as the four missiles I carried fired. The missiles streaked towards the target, trailing smoke from their exhaust as they flew. A second later, the lead missile struck the hull, blasting through the bronze plates. The second one impacted on the upper deck, near the wheel and blew the entire thing to kingdom come. The third and fourth ones stuck amidships, tearing off the entire stern and all aft compartments.

"Yeah!" I exclaimed as the ship lost power and fell back to earth. "Comrades, missile strike has good effect. Returning to _Kirov_ as ordered."

We banked hard and flew back out to sea, knowing the praise and congratulations we were going to receive for our bravery upon our arrival.

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(Annabeth)

(Ten Minutes Ago…)

A literal second after Thalia had finished speaking we heard the sound of a jet from outside. I could tell from the sound of the engine that it wasn't a passenger jet, it sounded too high to be a 747. It sounded like a fighter jet.

Soon afterwards, there was the rhythmic thunder of automatic weapons fire. The senate screamed and stampeded outside without caring what they were running in to. Thalia, Hylla, Percy, Reyna, Octavian, and I tried to stop them, but they wouldn't listen. An explosion rocked the building, causing pieces of the ceiling to collapse and fall. Marble chunks the size of cars fell, narrowly missing the flood of panicked campers.

"What's going on?" Octavian screamed, his bravado now gone in the face of peril.

"I don't know!" I shouted as I pushed my way outside through the campers.

I shoved my way outside and looked at the sky to my horror. Five fighter jets were circling New Rome, shooting missiles and firing their cannons down on the camp and the city. Three of them were focused solely on the camp while the other two pounded the city with their weapons.

"It's an air strike!" I yelled back inside.

One of the planes banked hard, showing me his wings. Pained hard onto the wings of the fighter were two red hammer and sickles.

"The Soviets…" I whispered under my breath.

I was astounded that they would do this. To launch a preemptive first strike on us like this was a declaration war.

"Get the Argo II up there!" I yelled, my commander's instincts taking over. "Somebody ground those jets now! Butch, take the Pegasus and see if you can buy us some time."

My voice seemed to snap everyone out of their panic. People began to move, running off to get the Argo II up and running, Butch and the Iris kids started to whistle for their horses while I grabbed a pair of binoculars from the rubble of the senate command table. I called on my mother's gift of tactical insight to help out as I scanned the jets for a weak point.

"Russian MiG-35 supersonic attack jets," I muttered. "Laser-guided missiles, .30 millimeter autocannons…SHIT!"

One of the pilots over the city banked hard and fired his cannon at me. I don't think he was aiming at me in particular, but I still nearly wet myself as I ran for cover. The bullets peppered the stone pavement, kicking up huge clouds of dust as they missed me. I coughed hard as the plane banked away to bomb the rest of the city.

"Terminus is going to have a heart attack," Percy coughed as he pulled himself from the rubble.

"If he's smart, he'll keep his mouth shut," I said. "There's no way we can beat those jets by ourselves."

"That's not something he's good at," Percy muttered as we heard someone scream "THAT"S AGAINST THE RULES!" in the distance, followed by the boom of a missile impacting on one of his statues.

Before I could answer, I heard an explosion from above. I looked up to see one of the MiGs go down in a ball of fire. Cheer's erupted from the demigods around us as the Argo II prepared to fire again on the Russians.

Then everything went wrong. One of the planes flew up high, so high that he was out of range of the ballista. But a second later he dove down, firing his autocannon like a madman at the Argo II. The ship started to smoke as the bullets peppered the hull. The pilot then banked away and reengaged a second later. The other three planes formed up alongside him in a V-shaped attack-escort formation. The lead plane fired all four of his missiles, each of them striking the ship cleanly and effectively downing it.

We all watched in horrified silence as the Argo II went down over the Little Tiber, crashing into the bank with a huge cloud of dust and flame. Overhead, the pilots banked and accelerated away towards the ocean; probably back to the carrier they had been launched from. All around me, all I could hear were the screams of the wounded and dying, and the burning snaps and crackles from what once was the camp.

I knew what I had to do. It wasn't my place to do so, but no one else would say it but me. I looked around for something to stand on, something that would allow everyone to see me. I climbed onto a big piece of rubble from the roof of the senate building.

"Everyone!" I yelled as loud as I could.

Heads turned and I was now the center of all attention.

"My friends," I began. "We stand in the middle of a tragedy. We are the victims…of an unprovoked first strike…by the Russians of the Soviet Union. They wish to declare a war on us. Not America, not Washington DC, or NATO. They wish to go to war with Olympus. I don't know how, but they know that the demigod world exists. And they wish to destroy us…all of us."

I let that sink in while I chose my next words. The fire crackled around us, adding to the mood of sorrow and pain.

"But they will not succeed!" I yelled. "They will try, and they will fight us wherever they can, but they will not win this battle! We stand together under one symbol…we stand under the Eagle of Zeus…"

I pointed towards the Campers, Hunters and Amazons.

"Rome…"

I pointed towards the Romans.

"And America!" I said, putting my fist to the sky. "We will not allow this act of war to go unpaid. They choose to attack us in our home…then we will do the same to their people! Now, will you lie down and let the Soviet Bear win? Or will you fight for your country, your parents, and yourselves?!"

Right away, the people cheered and howled with anger. Helmets flew up as oaths of blood were sworn in English, Greek, and Latin! I grinned and cleared my throat for my final bit of speaking.

"Then with Zeus and Jupiter as my witnesses," I said, shouting at the sky. "If the Russians want a war, they shall have it!"

I stepped down from the rock, feeling good that I had united us all.

"Not the way I would have done it," Octavian said, smoothing his hair back. "Very sloppy."

"Sloppy this!" I said as I punched him across the face. "Our friends are dead and hurt, and you care about speeches? Leo, Natalie, Alan, come here!"

My Russian-speaking speaking friend and her boyfriend pushed their way through the crowd over to me. Natalie's shirt was bloodstained and tattered, like she had been helping the wounded. Alan's clothes weren't bloody, but his skin was browned with dust and dirt. His sturdy six-foot frame was hunched over with exhaustion.

"Alan, take Octavian and put him in a holding cell," I said.

"I think they got destroyed," he said, looking at a smoldering pile of rubble to the west.

"Then tie him up," I said. "His ego will destroy us all."

"Alright," said the son of Hermes as he dragged the half-conscious Octavian away by his armpits. "Come on, buddy. Time to put you away."

I knew Octavian wouldn't be able to slip out of this one. Alan was famous for tying impossible knots. With him out of the picture, I turned to Natalie and Leo.

"Leo, I need you to connect me to the Soviets," I said.

"Why?" he exclaimed.

"I'll explain later," I said as I passed him my laptop that I had gotten from Daedalus in the Labyrinth all those years ago. "Daedalus included a crisis hotline to Moscow, like the one in the White House. Use it to connect to Yuri Padorin's home server."

"Why would he put a crisis hotline to Moscow in his laptop?" Natalie asked.

"Maybe he saw it coming?" I shrugged as Leo set to work. "He put that army of automations in New York in case of a Titan War and that ended up happening. Maybe he saw the Soviets coming as well?"

"Okay," Leo said, as he stepped away from my laptop. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"We want to offer them one last chance to reconsider," I said. "There is a chance that this was not authorized by their officers."

"So you're saying that this rouge faction," Natalie said, "may have a rouge of its own inside who wants war?"

"I'm not saying that," I said. "I'm saying that this may be true."

"I'm not sure I get it," she said. "But anyway, why am I here?"

"To translate," I said. "Leo, are they watching?"

"They'll have to be after this," he grinned and started hitting keys.

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(Moscow)

"Comrade Padorin!" a lieutenant ran in and saluted, panting hard. "Excuse me, Comrades, but we have an emergency!"

"What is it?" everyone around the table stood up.

"We have been hacked!" the lieutenant panted. "Someone is trying to communicate with you on your personal network though a hotline."

"Where is the signal coming from?" asked Captain Ustinov asked.

"America!" the lieutenant said.

Uncle Yuri calmly stepped down from the viewing platform and pressed a button on the table by his char. Panels opened up in the wooden conference table in front of us and viewing screens flicked on. We watched as the person on the other side of the hotline typed their message.

_Greetings, Yuri Padorin._ It said. _I am Annabeth Chase. _

"That American bitch!" Sergey cursed. "How is she not dead? Our pilots were instructed to level that base!"

"There are always survivors, Comrade Major" said a general.

We waited a second for Uncle Yuri to do say something back to Annabeth, but he just held up his hand. "Let's see what they want, Comrades," he said. "There is no need for us to appear eager now."

_I assume you know who I am and who I speak for,_ it said. _So I will just cut to the chase. The city of New Rome and its inhabitants have just been attacked by elements of the Russian Air Force._

Uncle Yuri typed a brief response.

_Is that so? _

_Yes. Many of our siblings and friends have been wounded. Around a hundred are dead._

"_Only_ a hundred?" thundered Captain Ustinov. "And we sent our best pilots to do this? Perhaps we need to retire our current aces for competent ones?"

Uncle Yuri typed.

_I do not understand. Why are you telling me this?_

_Because I want to know. Was this an officially authorized attack?_

We held our breath as Uncle Yuri typed. If he lied, then we had a shot for another, more successful strike. If he told the truth, then we would go to our long-awaited war against the Americans and their capitalist gods. It would improve the morale of our troops who were waiting for their orders.

_Yes, and I personally authorized it._

Silence in the room and on the screen.

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(The Ruins of New Rome)

_Yes, and I personally authorized it. _

I winced inwardly. Now there was no hope for peace except peace through death.

"You realize we will take this as an act of war?" I said.

Natalie typed furiously in Russian, sending the message through to Moscow in under thirty seconds.

_Yes._

"Was that its intent?"

_Yes._

"May I ask why you want war?"

_You may._

"Why?"

_You Americans control more than you think you do. Your government decides to start wars to make profit and decides how to end them after they become unprofitable. Your Wall Street controls the world's economy, stealing money from those who have none and putting them in debt to fuel your nation's capitalist hunger. And how is all possible? Your pagan, capitalist gods, sitting high above in Olympus on their thrones, telling your people what to do and when, but never why and what the cost will be to those who suffer. The Union of Sovereign Socialist Republics will see that their crimes against the Russian people are paid for in blood and Soviet nuclear fire. And you, their children, must be destroyed with them to preserve the peace of the world. _

I swallowed hard as he turned off the connection to his computer, ending the talk.

"Hey, Annabeth," Leo said. "Do you really think they're serious about this?"

"They have the means and the motive," I shrugged. "But they can't kill us without the Stalin Bomb being finished. So we have a couple months at most to stop them before they can act."

"I'm scared," Natalie sniffed before whispering something in Russian that sounded like a prayer…or a plea.

"We'll be alright," I soothed.

"Why does he want this?" she whispered, accidentally, in English.

"Why does who want what?" Leo asked.

Natalie shot him a look that could turn Ares away. "It's not nice to eavesdrop on people, gear boy," she hissed. "My personal issues are none of your business."

"Leo, leave her alone," I said. "We're at war now. We have more important matters on our hands now."

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(Moscow)

"It is now official, Comrades," Uncle Yuri said. "They do not want war, but they will have it."

"We must make ready our armed forces," said a general. "Comrades, should I order a full alert?"

"Just to the guards at Bright Star," Sergey said. "I will inspect them once we return from Cuba with the Stalin Bomb."

"Good idea, Sergey," Uncle Yuri said. "But Comrade Generals, do not tell them exactly when their inspection will be. Keep them on high alert. As for the bulk of our forces stationed in Kiev, St. Petersburg, and Minsk, tell them to begin prepping for invasion."

"At once, Comrade Padorin," all six generals saluted and left, beginning to order their troops.

"Comrade Captain," Uncle Yuri said. "Have the technicians at Polyarny begin pulling together the parts for an ICBM?"

"Da, we should have the basic structure for the missile in no time," said Captain Ustinov. "But Comrade Padorin, some parts are…unattainable."

"Which parts, Comrade Captain?" I asked.

"The warhead guidance system, remote detonator, and fail-safe, Comrade Doctor," he said.

"So even when the missile is launched," I said, "it won't detonate?"

"Da, I am sorry," he sighed. "Ever since the Cuban Missile Crisis, when Russia and America decommissioned all intercontinental ballistic missiles, we lack the capabilities to."

"Hold on, Comrade," I said. "Uncle Yuri, don't the Americans still have their missiles out in their Midwest?"

"Yes, I think so," he said.

"Then why don't we send a message to CARDINAL for him to obtain the necessary parts?" I said. "He's gotten us so much already; perhaps he can send us a few missile components?"

"CARDINAL won't be able to pull that off himself," Uncle Yuri mused. "But perhaps he can arrange it?"

"Exactly," Sergey said. "Isn't Agent Cassius standing by in Las Vegas with his team? Perhaps CARDINAL can coordinate them to intercept one of their military transports to a base?"

"Excellent idea!" Uncle Yuri laughed. "Comrades, send these instructions to New York right away, we must move as fast as we can."

Our Comrades in the government and police forces around Russia saluted and left, pulling out their phones and other communication devices to relay the orders.

"Nikolai, Sergey, start packing your bags and pack for warm weather," he said. "Cuba is even warm even this time of year."

"Right away, Uncle Yuri," I said as we stood up.

"Not yet," he said, pouring three tumblers of vodka. "First, a toast to our success."

He handed one of the tumblers to me and the other one to Sergey. I accepted the glass and lifted it.

"To comradeship," Sergey said.

"To family," said Uncle Yuri.

"To victory," I said. "Swift and sweet victory."

"Here, here!" Sergey said as we drank together.

(*The Hero of the Soviet Union is the equivalent of the Congressional Medal of Honor.)


	4. Arms Race

Chapter 4: Arms Race

**Author's Note: Sup Comrades around the world? War has now been declared between our Heroes of Olympus and our Heroes of the Soviet Union and the Stalin Bomb is going to be recovered and finished as fast as the Soviets can mobilize. But who is Felix Cortez? And is Cuba going to yield more than the Soviets think it will? Stay tuned now…**

**ALSO, THE STORY NOW HAS A THEME SONG: ****_RADIOACTIVE_**** BY IMAGINE DRAGONS. IT MAKES SENSE, DOESN'T IT? A STORY ABOUT NUCLEAR WAR…RADIOACTIVE? IF ANY OF YOU THINK THERE IS A BETTER CHOICE FOR A THEME SONG, THEN PLEASE REVIEW OR PM ME AND I WILL LISTEN TO IT. **

**ONE LAST THING: IF YOU HAVE REVIEWED MY STORY EVER SINCE I STARTED WRITING IT I HAVE PROBABLY PM'D YOU IN RESPONSE. I WOULD APPRECIATE IT IF YOU PM'D ME BACK ONCE IN A WHILE…**

**ENJOY!**

(Dr. Nikolai Pavel'ch Ivanovich)

I reclined in my seat as the jet flew. For the largest cargo plane that we had in our control, it flew rather smoothly. The only problem was the metal clacking and sliding of Soviet weapons being readied for battle.

I turned the locator card over in my fingers. All the protocols I had learned in college told me that all nuclear warheads _must_ have a locator card installed in the casing in case the warhead is stolen. While that seemed highly unlikely that anyone would be able to steal the Stalin Bomb, it was a possibility that I was not about to bet on. I planned on installing the locator card the second I saw the bomb.

A lot was happening in Moscow as I speak to you now. Captain Ustinov had been promoted to Admiral just last night for some war games that he had won without a single loss. He had been very happy, called us all for drinks, and then set to work building a new training program for our attack submarines.

The Red Army was mobilizing to prepare for an invasion. Uncle Yuri said that all of Europe would tremble before our army once again. Our economy has been doing remarkably better with the money our agents have been stealing from the European nations. Their blood money is absorbed and purified by us, sent into our military and production. People are happy now and laugh again. Russia has halted in her descent and now is climbing back to become the world's superpower. But this time, America will not be our rival.

"Sergey, why did you insist on bringing so many guns?" I asked as he walked back towards me. "And why did you bring fifteen of our Spetsnaz men?"

"Call it caution," he said, sliding his pistol out of his holster and wiping it down with a rag. "I haven't been to Cuba yet, so I have no idea what's waiting for us."

"We know exactly what's waiting for us," I scowled. "A warm welcome from Comrade Cortez. On Cuban soil, we will be as safe as we would be as in Moscow."

"Then they're a guard detail," he said with a smile. "Do you have a gun?"

"Sergey, I am a physicist," I laughed. "Do physicists carry guns?"

We shared a laugh as he slid another pistol from his belt and offered it to me. "Just in case," he said.

I shook my head. "Comrade Cortez might get the wrong idea if he sees me wearing a gun."

"Like he wouldn't be afraid of me?" Sergey sounded offended. "And what about the men?"

"For you and the men, that is different," I said as I studied the pistol. "You are soldiers, so it is natural for you to carry a gun. But my I ask why are you carrying Austrian guns instead of Russian ones?"

The pistol he was offering me was a Glock-20, an Austrian semi-automatic pistol that doubled as an automatic weapon, depending on the size of the magazine used. Sergey carried one just like it as well as one Heckler & Koch MP7 submachine gun.

"As the Americans would call it, it's a "get out of jail free card," he said. "These guns are the easiest to buy on any market, so using them will make it look like a terrorist attack."

"Should we not fly our banner, Comrades?" asked the pilot.

"Nyet, that would be too risky," I said. "Our American enemies are no doubt monitoring our every move."

"What is Comrade Cortez even like?" Sergey asked.

"Uncle Yuri told me Felix Cortez was a loyal Castro supporter while Cuba was our fully ally," I said. "But after the collapse of the Soviet Union, he began a smuggling operation to keep his steady supply of ."

"Drugs?" Sergey asked.

"Guns," I said. "American, German, Swiss, British, you name it, he sells it."

"But he is still loyal to the Soviet Union?" Sergey said. "Odd, wouldn't he side with whoever pays him best?"

"He is loyal," I said. "Uncle Yuri told me he is sending a car to meet us at the airport."

I looked up to the cockpit. "How long until we land in Havana?"

"Not long, Comrade Doctor," the pilot said. "Just another half hour until we touch down."

"I'll get the men ready," Sergey said as I handed him back the pistol.

"Give this to one of them," I said. "He'll use it better than I will."

We laughed again as he went aft to assess our "guard force." I sighed and reclined in my seat, hoping to catch a few winks before we landed.

After what seemed like only a few seconds later, I was woken up by a hand shaking my shoulder. Sergey stood straight up again as I stood myself and walked out towards the cargo bay.

"The car is here," he said. "Looks like this will be easy business for us."

"It does look that way," I said, shielding my eyes from the sun's reflection off the metal ramp of the cargo bay.

"Welcome to Cuba," he smiled as we slipped on our sunglasses.

Fifteen of our finest Spetsnaz operatives stood in a guard formation outside the plane. They held their weapons at the ready, loosely pointed at the men standing opposite them. Those men also carried guns, and were standing in a blockade formation around a person behind them.

"Some welcome," Sergey said under his breath as he nonchalantly trained his MP7 on one of the men. "And where is Comrade Cortez?"

"I am sorry, gentlemen," said a new voice from behind the opposing blockade. "But my father will not be able to see you."

The men stood aside and allowed the speaker to pass through. She was younger than us by what looked like a few years, and obviously came from an upper-class family. Her black dress, black high-heels, and black pearl earrings looked like they cost an individual fortune. She had a well-defined body, slim and what many would call perfect.

"She could be in the ballet," one of our men whispered to his friend before Sergey silenced him with a glare.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"My name is Maria Cortez," she said with a smile. "I believe you wanted to speak to my father, Comrade Russian."

Sergey scowled at her and stepped forwards. "We were sent to speak to Felix Cortez," he growled. "Where is he?"

"My father is not alive anymore," said Maria, her eyes becoming downcast with grief.

"I am sorry for your loss," I said, stepping forwards.

"It is fine," she sniffed and wiped her eyes. "He had a heart attack two days ago. They buried him this morning."

_That would explain her outfit,_ I thought.

"Before your father died," I said. "Did he tell you what we were here for?"

"He left a note that said he was going to do business with some Russians in two days," she said, "nothing more than that. And I assume that this business is to be kept between us and not reported to any form of government official?"

"Da," I nodded. "We wish to remain anonymous for now."

"Good," she said with a smile. "Leave your men here. We will take my car."

"Nyet," Sergey said. "My men will come with me."

The fifteen soldiers nodded in agreement and stepped forwards slightly, shifting their guns around their waists.

"Very well," Maria sighed and shouted something in Spanish at some of her men. "Twelve may come. Leave three here."

Sergey nodded and barked the orders, selecting the twelve men as three cars pulled up: a limousine and two vans. Maria turned and walked towards the limo. I followed her inside and Sergey followed. The doors closed and the car started moving forwards away from the airport.

"So what do you wish to purchase?" Maria asked as she pulled out her smartphone. It was an American iPhone 5, top of the line and in perfect condition.

_Capitalist swine,_ I thought as she scrolled through what looked like an inventory of her father's "goods."

"We aren't purchasing anything," I said. "Your father has been holding something for me and the people I work with. We are here to pick it up and take it back to Russia."

"And what would this item be?" she asked, not looking up from her phone.

"A Soviet Mark-1 Stalin hydrogen thermonuclear warhead," I said as calmly as I could keep my voice. I was excited to see my prototype again after so many years.

Maria froze and looked up at me, her eyes dead serious.

"You're here for a nuke?" she said. "My father never told me he was smuggling nuclear weapons for the Russians."

"He wasn't smuggling," I said. "He was simply holding this for us. It was not his property in any way."

Sergey slowly leaned forwards and rested his hands on his knees, sliding his sunglasses off.

"For your sake, _Comrade Cuban_," he said in a low and threatening tone. "I pray that you still have this item."

She smiled. "Of course I still have it," she said, showing us a picture on her phone. "Is this it?"

I took the phone and studied the picture. It was the bomb. The missile head was still shiny and polished and everything was in place, down to the last screw in the casing. I squinted at the number on the warhead, to make sure it was the right one and not just a knockoff normal thermonuclear warhead. The numbers checked out.

"Da, that is the Stalin Bomb," I grinned.

"Excellent," Maria smiled as the car turned and we drove through the streets of Havana.

"Hey," Sergey said. "I thought we were going to your father's warehouse? Why are we driving through the city?"

"The warehouse is on the other side of Havana," she explained as she began typing on her phone. "We will be there shortly, Comrades. Until then, please be patient."

Sergey grumbled. Patience was not something he cared much for.

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(Annabeth)

"Damn it!" I cursed and threw my knife.

The bronze blade sunk into the straw dummy up to the hilt, a clean kill by anyone's standers.

"Why won't you help us?" I screamed at the sky. "Do you want to get your children killed? Do you have a death wish, Lord Zeus? You can't survive this crisis by staying away! They know where you are!"

I don't really know why I was yelling at them. I just wanted a response, even if it came in the form of a lightning bolt that would smite me.

I had been trying for two days to figure out where Ivanovich could have gone. I had spent two days pouring through maps of Russia, messages, and even the phone records of Dr. Ivanovich. But surprisingly, he had none. Not one letter had been sent in seven years, not a single phone call either. I was at my wit's end now and I had no idea where they were.

Percy and Natalie suddenly ran in behind me.

"Annabeth, we have a big problem," Natalie panted.

"I have one of my own," I growled. "Did Octavian escape?"

"No," Percy said. "We know where the Stalin Bomb is."

I visibly perked up at his words. "Did you say we know where the bomb is?" I asked.

He nodded and swallowed.

"Thank the gods!" I laughed and fell back in my chair. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go get it!"

"Yeah, that's the problem," Natalie said. "We aren't the only ones who know…"

"What?" I asked. "Who else knows?"

Natalie handed me her cell phone. It was open to a new text she had gotten very recently, just a minute ago.

_You do not know me,_ it said,_ but I know you. Annabeth Chase, you have to act fast. The Stalin Bomb is in Havana, Cuba in a warehouse owned by Felix Cortez. Dr. Ivanovich and a group of Soviet soldiers are here and they intend to pick up the bomb. I can only stall them for so long, so please act fast. Come to the warehouse and get the bomb before they do or all hope is lost!_

_Do not reply to this text, the Russians are sitting right by me now and I do not wish to be discovered._

I swallowed and handed the phone back to Natalie.

"Who sent this?" I asked.

"No idea," she shook her head. "I've never gotten a text from this person before in my life."

"Then we need to go now," I said, grabbing my knife and walking out.

"But the Argo II is down," Natalie said. "And besides, the flight to Cuba is, like, ten hours from California."

"I'm not talking about flying a plane or a ship," I said as I ran over to Jason and Piper.

"What's up, Annabeth?" he asked.

Natalie showed him the text and he paled. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Thalia told me that you control the wind," I said. "I need you throw as many of us to Havana right away."

"I can only throw four of you," he shrugged. "So I assume it will be you, Percy, Natalie, and who else?"

"Leo," I said. "He speaks Spanish."

Piper ran off and dragged Leo back in a few seconds. She had apparently explained to him what our situation was and he looked like he was ready to go.

"Alright," he swallowed. "Let's do this thing!"

Piper rolled her eyes as the sky darkened. Jason raised his arms and the wind picked up around us, making a small tornado. I felt my feet lift off the ground as the world disappeared in a huge bolt of lightning.

_Please, let us get there in time,_ I prayed to my mother. _I can't take any more losses from anywhere. _

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(Dr. Nikolai Pavel'ch Ivanovich)

(Havana)

The car slowed to a stop in front of a run-down building on the outskirts of Havana. The drive had taken about half an hour and Sergey looked like he was going to go crazy. He kept his hand on his gun at all times, his thumb rubbing circled around the safety like he was going to turn it off and start killing. I couldn't really blame him…I was highly anxious as well.

"We are here," Maria said with a smile as she pocketed her phone. "Follow me, Comrades. We are almost done here."

Sergey followed her out the door and I came out third. The second I stepped out, the men Sergey had brought surrounded me in a protective formation. I shrugged and walked inside, taking my sunglasses off when I entered.

The inside of the warehouse looked as bad as the outside. The roof and walls were browned with rust, the cement floor was chipped and cracked, and there were no functioning lights above in the ceiling. It was almost cliché that the most powerful weapon in existence was sitting in here somewhere.

Maria walked up stairs and motioned for us to follow. We did as she asked, none of our men following us as they began to sift through the crates that littered the broken floor of the warehouse for weapons.

At the top of the stairs, we came to an office space above and entered. It was pitch black inside as the door closed behind us, as the windows appeared to be tinted to not let light in.

"Comrade Maria?" I asked, feeling around the wall for a light switch. "Comrade, where are you?"

I felt something get pressed into the base of my skull and stiffened.

"Sit down," I heard her say from behind me, "_Tovarich Vrach._" _ (Comrade Doctor)_

I was forced into a chair by a pair of strong hands on my shoulders. Beside me, I heard the same thing happen to Sergey.

"What is going on?" I asked the darkness.

The light flicked on and I saw what was going on. Seven of Maria's guards stood before us, guns aimed directly at our hearts and heads. Maria herself sat in a very expensive-looking padded office chair, her cell phone in her hands as she typed out a text aloud.

"I…have…the Russians," she read aloud as she typed the text to whoever was receiving it. "The…Stalin…Bomb…is…in…the warehouse…across…town. Here…is…the…address."

"Traitor!" Sergey thundered and tried to get up, but he was forced back down. "You'll pay for this!"

Maria smiled and looked up from her phone. "You can't call me a traitor," she grinned. "I was never on your side."

"You mean that…" I breathed.

She nodded. "I am Maria Cortez, daughter of Iris, goddess of the rainbow and communications," she said, gallantly.

"I knew this felt wrong," Sergey growled. "You are a spy."

"Sort of," she shrugged. "This is my first time passing information to who you call "the enemy."

"You wish your bullet now?" I snarled. "The Americans cannot win. They will die at the hands of our soldiers!"

"Not without the Stalin Bomb," she said, setting the phone down. "And not without _you_, Ivanovich."

She chuckled to herself. "If only you knew why Natalia left you," she taunted, "and where she is right now."

I lunged at her and tried to tear out her throat. I slipped through the fingers of the guard watching me and tackled her out of the chair. My fingers closed around her throat and I squeezed as hard as I could. She choked and scratched at my face, but I just squeezed harder. Before her guards could do anything, I flipped around and landed a haymaker on the one who made a grab for me across his nose. There was a wet crack and blood squirted from his nose as he stumbled backwards.

"You will never say that name again," I told her as I dragged her to her feet and got her in a hostage position, still trying to choke the life out of her. "Now tell them to let Sergey go."

She swallowed and managed to say something in Spanish. The man let go of Sergey slowly, but that was not a smart thing to do. As soon as he was free, Sergey flipped the man over his shoulder and caved in his skull with the heel of his boot. A puddle of red leaked out onto the floor from the man's broken head.

Fast as lightning, Sergey grabbed up the man's pistol and pointed it at the other five guards. The pistol thundered five times as he shot each guard between his eyes. Maria screamed at the sight as I heard our men kick down the door and come inside, their weapons raised and ready to kill.

"We've been tricked," I told them, dropping Maria to the floor. "The Stalin Bomb is not here."

"She is an informer to the Americans," Sergey kicked Maria down.

"Comrade Major, then we must kill her," said one of the men, putting his gun to the spy's temple.

"Not yet," I said. "First she's going to tell us where the Stalin Bomb is. Then she will have her bullet."

Sergey grabbed Maria by her hair and hauled her to her knees. He jerked his head towards one of the chairs we had been sitting in and one of the men dragged it over. He brutally forced her down in it.

"Now, traitor," he snarled. "Where is the Stalin Bomb?"

"I'll never tell you," she said defiantly.

"I have a feeling you'll change your mind," he said as he drew his knife from his belt.

He stabbed her through her hand, digging the blade through her flesh. The Cuban traitor screamed, but did not cry as Sergey pulled the blade out of her hand, leaving a bloody gash through it.

"Where is it?" I asked.

"Never," she panted. "Go to Hades."

Sergey pulled out his pistol and shot her in the foot. She screamed again as the spray of blood misted over her expensive clothes, dying them a slight red color. He then put the pistol barrel against her knee and pressed it deeper into her skin.

Sergey had done this so many times that he knew it by heart. It was a method of torture used by Spetsnaz operatives in the field to gain information. He would inflict so much pain on her that she would tell us just to have us kill her and put her out of her misery. He told me it always worked and that most people cracked after the first wound. But Maria seemed to have a slightly higher tolerance for pain.

"Sergey stop a second," I said as he was about to blow her knee to bits.

I patted her down, finding her phone in her inside pocket. I unlocked it, seeing as she was stupid enough to not have put a passcode on it. I went to settings and changed the language back to Russian before I went to her text messages and looked at her last text. To a Natalie Benjamin.

"The…Russians…are…dead," I typed. "Do…you…have…the Stalin…Bomb?"

A second later, the message came back.

_Yes, thank you for the knowledge. _

I smiled. "Where…did…you…find it?"

_The warehouse on the other side of Havana near the port. The guard was told to expect us. _

I laughed. This was too easy now.

"I…have….arranged…for you…to take…a…plane…back to…America," I typed. "Hanger Seven, cargo…section…Havana airport. Do…not…be…late. I…have…another…present…for…you."

_Thank you, we will be there._

"I know where they are," I grinned as I showed Sergey the phone. "We need to get there first."

"You're right," he said. "Alright, Comrades…secure the cars. Kill the drivers."

"What about the traitor, Comrade Major?" asked one man.

"She comes with us," he said. "We must make her death look like an accident."

Maria tried to keep her face stoic, but her eyes quivered with real fear.

"Now you see how bad an idea it was to betray the Soviet Union," I said as she was led down the stairs out of the warehouse.

"You will not win this war!" she shouted and struggled in the soldier's grip. "Lord Zeus will see you thrown in Tartarus! The gods will punish you forever!"

"Don't you know?" I asked. "In Russia there is no god."

A few shots cracked off behind us and I looked to see our soldiers stepping over the bodies of the drivers. Sergey gave me a thumbs up and got into the van ahead of us while I got into the limo with Maria. Two soldiers filed in behind me as protection and guard for Maria while a third took the wheel.

"Follow Sergey," I told him as I reclined in the padded seat.

"Da, Comrade Doctor," he said as the limo started back towards the airport.

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(Annabeth)

The van we had rented bounced along the uneven stones of the street. At the slightest bump, my hand immediately went to the large wooden crate that sat in front of me. The crate was marked with hundreds of Cyrillic characters and numbers, as well as a hammer and sickle that identified it as property of the Union of Sovereign Socialist Republics.

"It's kinda cool," Leo said from the driver's seat. "I'm, like, three feet away from the most powerful weapon in the world and I'm not dead."

"That is kinda cool," Natalie said, blankly staring at the box like she was committing it to memory.

Suddenly the van bounced hard and we all covered our heads. After a few seconds we uncurled and peaked at the crate, expecting the bomb to explode.

"We have to stop doing that," I sighed as Leo started driving again. "Okay, everyone listen. The bomb will not go off from a bump. Nuclear missiles are activated by a series of codes and only arm themselves when they are traveling at high speeds from the upper atmosphere. So we can all relax, alright?"

"Alright," Percy sighed. "So what do we do when we get back to America?"

"First, we need to take that bomb to Bunker 9 and disarm it," Leo said. "Then we can go back to fighting Gaea because the Russians don't play nice."

"If you're referring to the massive destruction that air strike caused New Rome then yes, they don't play nice," I snapped. I didn't want to remember that horrible tragedy at all.

"Jeez, Annabeth, calm down," he said. "I'm only joking."

"Just drive," I sighed. "Being here is giving me the creeps."

"I know, right?" Natalie said, looking up from the crate. "I keep expecting to see a nuclear missile launch pad somewhere in this city."

_She would remember the Cold War,_ I shrugged. _She's twenty-six years old. Nuclear war was a real thing to her as a girl. _

"Well, the only nuke we'll ever see in our life is sitting in that box," Percy said. "And thank the gods it doesn't even work yet."

We pulled onto the exit for Havana International Airport a few minutes later, the topic of conversation solely focused around our impending victory over the Russians. As we pulled through the cargo entrance, Leo explained to the guard that we were delivering something for a cargo plane. After the man checked the crate, he said something back to Leo and waved him through the gate.

"What was the hanger number?" he asked.

"Seven," I said. "Just follow the numbers on top of the buildings.

"Got it," he said.

He drove past a few of them, going in a circle because he took a wrong turn at number five, and finally stopped at seven.

"Here we are," he grinned.

The doors of the hanger were open and inside I could see some men rolling crates onto forklifts. One of them noticed us and waves us forwards, wiping some grease from his forehead onto his coveralls.

"Drive in," I said. "Let's get out of here."

Leo slowly accelerated the van inside the hanger doors. Running along the walls were catwalks and under them were piles of crates. Everything seemed perfectly normal.

Suddenly, the hanger doors creaked closed behind us and the opposite set of doors in front did the same. The workers moved to circle us, pulling out machine guns as their friends on the forklifts drove them to block us from moving the van.

"What's going on?" I asked as Natalie, like any other Aphrodite girl, began tying up her hair and putting on sunglasses.

One of the men ran up to the car as Leo locked the doors, which would do nothing against a machine gun.

"Vyydite iz avtomobilya!" he said, banging on the window. _(Get out of the car!)_

"The Russians?!" Percy exclaimed as Natalie's phone suddenly vibrated.

"It's for you," she said as I took it from her.

_It's been some time, Annabeth,_ said the text. _Remind me, how long ago was our meeting at Rankow?_

"Ivanovich," I growled, realizing who this was from. "He planned this! The Russians told us to come here and now we've brought them the Stalin Bomb!"

_If you don't get out of that car now, _said another text. _We will drag your bodies out. Get out now and I promise we will not kill you._

I read that text aloud so we could all know what was at stake. "What should we do?" I asked.

"It's your call, Wise Girl," Percy said with a weak smile.

Leo and Natalie nodded in agreement. I sighed.

"Open the doors," I told Leo.

He nodded and unlocked the doors. Right away, they opened and Leo was dragged out by the Russian standing there. The back doors opened and three men jumped in, grabbing us by our arms hand hauling us out of the van. They led us around to where they had Leo, right up against the crates. The men who dragged us then pointed their guns at us threateningly.

_Almost like a firing squad,_ I thought as I heard the sound of expensive shoes on concrete.

Dr. Nikolai Pavel'ch Ivanovich walked around the crates, accompanied by the man from Rankow; Sergey Kamarov. Or as he was now known to the demigods: Sergey the Butcher. Nikolai smiled at me like he was meeting an old friend while Kamarov kept his face in a tight scowl of hatred.

"The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics thanks you, Annabeth Chase," he said in Russian with a sarcastic salute. "You have returned a vital piece of equipment to us. We are eternally grateful to you."

"You tricked us, you bastard!" I yelled, wanting to dig my knife into his stomach.

"Da, but you came here on your own free will," he said. "And on behalf of…well everyone in Russia, I offer you an option."

"We get to choose the way we die?" Leo scoffed and I translated it to Russian for Ivanovich.

"Da," he smiled. "You and Maria."

Sergey waved his hand and two men dragged a woman into sight. She had a hole in her foot and a stab mark in her hand. I glared at Kamarov. He was really living up to the "butcher" part now.

"Meet Maria Cortez," he said. "Daughter of Apis."

"Iris, you drunk!" she screamed. "I am the daughter of Iris."

"I don't really care, traitor," he said, sternly. "She is the one who told you the Stalin Bomb was here in Cuba."

"Hello," I said to her in English as she was shoved up against the crates next to us. "And thank you for the tip."

"My pleasure," she smiled, wincing as she tried to put pressure on her foot.

We were interrupted rudely as Kamarov chambered a bullet in his submachine gun. Ivanovich was busy over by the Stalin Bomb. It looked like he was checking some wiring, and inserting a card of some kind.

"Any last words?" Kamarov asked us.

"Well, now we're about to die," I said to Percy. "We might as well say something heroic."

"It's weird that it's like this," he shrugged. "I always thought it was going to be Luke or Kronos, or Gaea. Not some Russians bent on ending the world."

"We aren't dying yet, amigos," Maria said with a smile. "My guards should be here any second now to kill these heretics."

**_CRACK!_**

We all hit the deck reflexively, even the Russians. Only one person didn't duck: Nikolai. Instead, he looked down at his chest where a cloud of red was seeping into the white fabric of his shirt. He stared at it for few seconds as a group of black clad Cubans popped up from behind crates and ran in across the walkway, shooting two more of the Russians before Kamarov's men retaliated with a brutal barrage of gunfire. They scattered and started fighting as we all ran for cover.

From my little hiding spot at the back of a pile of crates, I watched as the doctor sank to his knees, his hands stained with his own blood. He looked at the ceiling and whispered something in Russian so softly that I almost didn't hear it.

"Natalia…whatever…I did," he wheezed. "Forgive me."

He fell forwards onto the floor as more blood seeped from the wound in his chest. And then I knew that Dr. Nikolai Pavel'ch Ivanovich was dead.

**OOOH, SUSPENSEFUL! WILL MARIA'S GUARDS PREVAIL OR WILL "SERGEY THE BUTCHER" DO THEM ALL IN. AND IS NIKOLAI REALLY DEAD? TUNE IN NEXT TIME TO FIND OUT HOW THE HEROES OF OLYMPUS GET OUT OF THIS STICKY SITUATION. **

**ALSO, ON A SIDE NOTE, I AM IN NEED OF OC CHARACTERS FOR THE DEMIGODS. I'M PRETTY WELL COVERED WITH RUSSIANS CHARACTERS, BUT IF YOU HAVE A GOOD ONE, I WILL ACCEPT IT. SERIOUSLY, I REALLY NEED CHARACTERS. USING JUST ANNABETH, PERCY, PIPER, LEO, JASON, HAZEL, AND FRANK ISN'T GOING TO CUT IT BECAUSE I NEED OFFICERS AND COMMANDERS AND OTHER PEOPLE TO BATTLE THE RUSSIANS. **

**READ, REVIEW, AND SUBMIT YOUR CHARACTERS! ALSO, THE CONSTEST IS STILL GOING ON, BUT THE PRIZE IS DIFFERENT NOW. TELL ME THE MOVIE THAT THE QUOTE FROM CHAPTER TWO IS FROM AND YOU GET TO SUBMIT A PORTION OF THE PLOT!**

**SEE YOU SOON, COMRADES! **

**-MickDunD**


	5. The Battle for the Stalin Bomb

Chapter 5: The Battle for the Stalin Bomb

**PRIVET, TOVARICH'S AROUND THE WORLD! ARISE AND JOIN THE GLORIOUS RED REVOLUTION! THE NEW CHAPTER IS HERE AND BOY, DO YOU LEARN A LOT FROM IT, SO READ CAREFULLY! **

**BEFORE YOU START THERE ARE TWO THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW:**

**ONE: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SCENES OF INTENSE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE THAT MAY SCARE THE ****_DER'MO _****OUT OF SOME READERS. **

**AND TWO, I NEED SOME OC'S TO COVER THE RUSSIAN'S IMPENDING ADVANCE ON THE REST OF THE WORLD, SPREADING THEIR GLORIOUS TEACHNGS OF SOVIET FREEDOM, BITCHES! JK, I'M NOT A FAN OF MARXIST-LENINISM. BUT I AM A FAN OF OC CHARACTERS. THEY CAN BE A DEMIGOD OR SOME MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE SYMPATHETIC TO THE DEMIGODS LIKE A NYMPH OR A…WHATEVER YOU THINK WORKS. IF YOU HAVE ANY, LEAVE THEM IN YOUR REVIEW AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER!**

**NOW ENJOY THE BATTLE FOR THE STALIN BOMB!**

(Annabeth)

Gunfire continued to erupt around us as the Cubans battled against the Russians. From my little hiding spot against the wall, I watched as Sergey walked through the battlefield as calm and cold as a marble statue. He fired at whoever shot back at him as he walked, his men doing the exact same thing as they hunted the Cubans through the "jungle" of cargo crates.

A bullet struck the wall above my head and I admit, I screamed like a little girl. I dove to the floor and waited for the firefight to be over so we could just live our lives.

"Percy!" I realized.

He wasn't next to me or around me in any way. I couldn't see anything except for the flashes of gunfire and the spent shell casings on the floor.

"Percy?" I yelled again, hoping he would hear me.

I opened my mouth to yell for him again, but I felt a hand clamped around my mouth. I screamed again, but then I heard someone shushing me.

"Annabeth, it's okay, it's okay," I heard Natalie say. "It's me, Natalie. Just be quiet or we might end up like that."

She pointed past my head at the body of Nikolai lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. I nodded and slowly crawled backwards away from the fight and into the maze of crates.

"Natalie…" I said. "What are you wearing?"

She had on a strange black vest over her thin summer t-shirt, despite the fact that it was December. In her right hand she was holding a pistol, and she was using it to sweep our advance like some kind of Black Ops agent. She turned and faced me.

"Just a flak jacket," she shrugged.

"Where'd you get it?" I asked.

She grimaced. "Some things are best left unsaid," she said.

"And the pistol?" I asked.

"Same place," she said. "My dad taught me how to use a gun before he died. He was in the Marines."

"How old were you when he taught you?" I asked.

"I think I was about…six or seven, I guess," she shrugged. "He told me it was because he never wanted anyone to be able to hurt me."

"Ah, I see," I said as she stopped and held up her fist in a military code signal.

She peaked around the bend in the crates and suddenly fired two shots. There was a startled cry and a wet gurgle from whoever she hit. She looked back at me and blew some of her hair out of her face.

"Come on," she said, waving me up.

Not wanting to make her wait, I quickly followed her. Soon we came to an isle in between the rows and towers of crates. Directly across from us was another small isle in which I saw a familiar set of sea-green eyes and black hair.

"Per-MMMPH!" I said as Natalie's hand clamed across my mouth again.

"SHHH!" she said. "Someone's coming."

She was right, I could hear the thumping of combat boots as a group of people ran down the aisle, coming from the right. I knew who they were right away because they were shouting orders in Russian. And among the voices in there, I could make out the distinctive knife-sharp bark of Sergey Kamarov.

A burst of gunfire suddenly sounded from the left, directed at the Russians. Right away, the Russians retaliated with their own barrage of gunfire at the Cubans. There were screams from the Cubans side as the elite Spetsnaz soldiers cut them down. But just as the gunfire was dying down, something landed on the floor and rolled past us towards the Russians. As it bounced by, I managed to see what it was. A spherical shape, coated with gray paint and a handle at the top along with the hole for the pin.

"GRENADE!" I shouted and threw myself to the floor.

The grenade detonated with a flash and a spray of shrapnel. But that was the least of my troubles. It seemed that that somewhere in this warehouse was a kind of explosive or flammable material, which was stupid because the warehouse was now an all-out warzone.

A massive explosion shook the entire warehouse, knocking over crates onto the soldiers and guards. I heard Percy call my name as a shadow fell over me. Time seemed to slow down around me as I turned my head to face Percy, wanting his face to be the last thing I saw. His face was a mask of terror as he tried to push his way out of the isle and get to me. Our eyes fixed and I gave him a slight smile, knowing I was finished.

"I love you, Percy Jackson" I whispered as the crate fell on me and I saw black. "I love you so much."

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(Natalie Irene Benjamin)

"ANNABETH!" Percy screamed as he ran to her, actually shouldering one of the Cubans out of the way as he tore across the aisle.

The black-clad guard turned to bring his gun to bear on Percy and without thinking, I reacted. I raised the pistol and automatically centered the crosshairs on the man's forehead. I pulled the trigger three times for good measure, just like he had taught me. The more you fire, the less chance they have of surviving.

The Cuban toppled, his head completely gone, and I reloaded as I ran over to police his weapon and ammunition. He was packing an MP5…not bad hardware for a security guard. I loaded a fresh thirty-round banana clip into the SMG and chambered the bullet. I flicked the safety to a 3-round burst, knowing that I didn't have to waste all my ammo to defend myself.

"Annabeth?" Percy's voice shook me out of my little episode. "Annabeth, please speak to me."

"Move," I told him, my hard-drilled instincts surfacing.

He had dragged the crate off her and laid her out in a good first-aid position. She had a good-sized cut running across her temple and around to her forehead and the area on her legs where the crate had hit was turning a nasty shade of purple.

"She might have a broken leg," I told Percy. "But she's just unconscious. Just take her over to Leo and feed her some ambrosia."

"Alright," he said as I stood up and hefted the MP5. "Where are you going, Natalie?"

"I'm going to get the Stalin Bomb," I said. "And we need to know that Ivanovich is really dead. If he survived, I'm going to put a bullet in his head."

Percy's expression changed back to his usual stoic battle-face. "Kill that guy," he said as he picked up Annabeth. "Make him pay, Natalie."

"I will," I said.

He turned to leave as I remembered something crucial. He unsheathed Riptide and started to stalk forwards like a solider, not remembering that wouldn't work.

"One more thing," I said as I knelt by the dead guard and grabbed his pistol. "You'll have to shoot them. Celestial Bronze doesn't work on mortals."

He reluctantly took the pistol and walked towards the hanger doors.

I felt so horrible about what I had said. I would put a bullet in Nikolai's head…after everything we had gone through together…I would kill him in cold blood when he was helpless and broken. That just felt…wrong inside.

"Doesn't matter," I said. "He is the enemy. He needs to die."

But it still felt wrong. I mean…I had known him all my life and now I would have to end his to save America.

_But maybe my loyalties are misplaced_, said the dark little Russian voice in the back of my head.

I stopped and shook my head. No. I was done with that, I wouldn't do that ever again. Yuri, Nikolai, Sergey, they were all the enemies.

I walked through the wreckage, sweeping the path with the MP5 before I moved on. The Stalin Bomb had been sitting in the center of the warehouse, so Nikolai was lying right next to it. A Cuban popped up from behind a pile of toppled crates a few yards away from me, screaming as he tried to swat out the flames that covered his body. I raised the SMG and put three rounds in his chest, putting him down before he could attract any attention from Sergey's men.

I was glad that neither Nikolai or Sergey had recognized me when they took us prisoner. If they had, we would all have been shot before Maria's incompetent guards could fuck things up. Using a frag grenade in a warehouse full of guns…he could have killed all of! And to think that Cuba is world-renowned for having great doctors…now I see how much Castro fucked up the country.

I crept through the burning wreckage silently, knowing that somewhere, Sergey was lurking. And I knew that if it came down to a fight with him, I would lose. Sergey Kamarov was one of the deadliest men in the world and _the_ deadliest man in Russia! He was a true artist at hand-to-hand killing, an excellent shot with any weapon, he could fly planes and helicopters drive and fight with tanks, and he was somehow married to a woman who admired these qualities and had a son who he was drilling to be his legacy to the motherland. He really was the "Golden Boy" of the Spetsnaz Corps. And I was just some KGB defector who had managed to survive the transition to American life well enough to escape the reach of the Rodina. _(Motherland)_

That's right. My real name wasn't Natalie. It was Natalia…Natalia Ilyich Borodin, ex deep-cover KGB agent for New York City and currently in the top-five people that the agency wanted to "whack," which spy-lingo for kill. I was personally trained by Yuri Padorin at Nikolai's insistence in the arts of espionage and combat. My father was never a United States Marine, he was a member of the Moscow Militia until Aphrodite found him and thought he was "cute." After that, they had me and she vanished, leaving him on his own with a newborn baby girl to raise in a country who hated gods and their offspring. I grew up, learning to hate instead of love. I would have gone even further down that dark hole if I hadn't come to America on my mission and met Alan at college. He had been nice to me even after I shunned him like I was taught to shun Americans. But he just kept coming back, bringing me gifts and asking me out despite that, at the time, Nikolai and I were going out.

When I defected after Nikolai's betrayal, I learned that my father was dead. He had been murdered in a classic KGB hit and given a standard police funeral with his position in the Militia. As per procedures when an agent has been compromised, the KGB had wiped Nikolai off the face of the earth until we had found him at Rankow and he had escaped. Annabeth had told me what he had been charged with and I was shocked. Nuclear terrorism…from my oldest friend. I could barely believe it. Sure, he was a godless bastard just like the Yuri, Sergey, and the rest of the Politburo…but terrorism was not something he would approve of.

I heard Sergey shout something behind me and I spun around, sweeping the clear area behind me. There was nothing there and I didn't hear anyone coming my way, so I turned and kept walking, pushing the thoughts of my past from my head entirely. I had a job to do, and if it meant killing an old friend then I would kill.

Finally, I found the Stalin Bomb. The refrigerator-sized box still sat on the dolly where Sergey had left it, the top open revealing the parts and warhead of the most powerful and lethal weapon in history, something that made Zeus's Master Bolt look like a child's cap gun. But more importantly, I found Nikolai.

The entire floor around him and the bomb was now soaked in blood and he was looking very dead right then. I ran over to him and rolled him onto his back to look at his wound, praying to all the gods that he was already dead and that I wouldn't have shoot him.

No…no, he was alive. Barely breathing and less than half-conscious, but he was alive. The bullet had missed his heart and lung by a few centimeters and instead hit his pectoral muscle below his shoulder. I knew right away that his collar bone had been broken and his shoulder was dislocated, plus he was bleeding a lot. There was a very slim chance that he would live if I left him now, but I had a job to do now and we had to be certain.

I put the SMG down and knelt by his side, drawing the pistol. I made sure a round was chambered and put the barrel to his temple.

"I'm sorry," I told him in Russian. "But this has to happen for the safety of the world."

I was about to pull the trigger when his head weakly turned to me. His eyes were half-open and glazed with blood loss and delirium, but they were trained on me. I froze as his…beautiful blue eyes looked at me. His lips opened slightly and he made a small sound of pain.

"Shut up!" I said, jamming the barrel into his head. "Don't talk to me after what you did, Nikolai."

"N-nat," he whispered. "I…s-s-sorry."

I jammed the barrel into the hole in his shoulder. He writhed in agony, howling like a tortured animal. His screams fractured my resolve and the promise I had made to Percy started to seem less and less important to me now. I pulled the gun away from his wound and chucked it away before my reasonable self could tell me to do it. I didn't love him anymore, I was in love with Alan, I mean, there was a chance that he and I might get married one day, but I still had a special place in my heart for Dr. Nikolai Pavel'ch Ivanovich.

"I'm sorry," I soothed, lightly wiping his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Nikolai. I…I don't know what I was thinking."

He calmed down, his breaths rasping from his throat as I took off the flak jacket and my shirt as well. I had no problems with doing it, I was wearing a bra underneath. I wadded up the thin cotton shirt and pressed it against the hole in his chest.

"Shhh," I said as his body tensed with pain. "I'm trying to stop the bleeding. You're going to be alright."

As I tied the shirt behind his shoulder as a sort of sling/bandage, he raised his head off the ground, the veins and muscles in his neck pulsing with pain as he tried to get to level with my eyes.

"Lay down," I said, trying to ease his head back down. "Don't move."

But he was determined to get to my face. He grabbed my right shoulder and I winced as he hauled himself up, as he was touching the tattoo I had sworn to keep secret from everyone except the Russians who knew I had it. I felt the wetness of his blood on my shoulder as he almost painted my skin over, hiding the lines painted into my skin. I heard a scraping sound from my right as he picked up the MP5 and pressed it into my hand grip-first.

"Behind…you," he rasped in a delirious tone before his eyes rolled back and he passed out due to blood loss.

I heard footsteps behind me and I pivoted on my foot, pointing the MP5 at…Maria?

"Easy, amiga, easy," she said, holding up her hands, one of which contained a small silver combat knife.

"What's the knife for?" I asked in English, not lowering the gun.

"No need to be rude," she said walking forwards. "I'm just going to pay him back for what they did to me, and save the world in the process."

I changed the safety and fired one round at her bad foot, stopping her in her tracks when the .9 mm round blew a quarter-sized piece of cement out of the floor.

"That's not going to happen," I said.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked. "You're here to do the same thing as me, so why don't we both end his life?"

"That's not going to happen," I said. "Now turn around and leave, Maria. This isn't something that you want to get involved in.

Maria looked past me at the bandage on Nikolai's shoulder and gasped. "You're trying to save him?" she was astounded. "After what he did to you?"

I stood and lowered the gun out of shock. "How do you know about that?" I asked.

Maria grinned. "My mother is Iris," she said. "Goddess of communications. Like her, I know a good deal of what happens in the world over the phone and the internet."

She clucked her tongue. "What would Aphrodite say," she started. "If she knew one of her favorite daughters was falling for the enemy all over again?"

"Be silent," I said.

"I know who you are, Natalia," the Cuban woman continued on, spinning the knife in her good hand. "I know a good deal about you from those calls you made to Nikolai. I know you're a spy for the GRU who defected when your boyfriend stopped calling for five months. I chose not to tell Annabeth or Percy, thinking you might be useful in this war against the Russians. But I was an idiot to think that. You _are_ a Russian."

I looked down and swallowed. Maria knew way too much at this point.

"Now you have two choices," she continued. "You can either try to run away and have me tell Annabeth who you really are. You can't go back to Russia, they'll shoot you the second they lay eyes on you. And you can't reconcile with the Demigods, they think you're a spy. _Or_,"

She pointed past me at Nikolai's limp body.

"you can pull that trigger and kill him," she finished. "If Nikolai dies, they won't be able to finish the Stalin Bomb; he's the only one who knows how it works. The choice is yours."

I looked at her and laughed out loud in her face.

"There's a third option," I said in Russian. "I can kill you here and now, save Nikolai, and thus preventing you from ever telling anyone."

"We'll see," the Cuban woman said as she shrugged out of her dress jacket and spun her knife. "I've just taken some morphine, by the way. Pain won't do much against me."

I threw the MP5 aside and cracked my knuckles and neck.

"You're not using a weapon?" she asked, sort of confused.

"Oh, believe me," I said. "I am."

"Where is it?' she asked.

"Remember when you said I was GRU?" I asked. "Well, you couldn't have been more wrong, _amiga_."

I clicked my shoes together and out popped a four and a half inch blade on my right toe.

"I was KGB all the way," I said sweetly.

Maria snarled and launched at me with her knife. I spun out of the way like I was a dancer and kicked Maria in the side with my shoe knife.

The Cuban grunted as she started to bleed, but she didn't go down since she had pumped herself up on morphine. I set my face and struck again, dropping to the ground and launching into a spin kick. The small blade sliced through the tendons in her bad leg and she went down with a cry as her entire leg gave out.

"You…_bitch!"_ she growled as she got back up.

I just stared at her and cocked my head. She lunged at me again, this time spinning her knife to catch me on the bicep as I dodged. I winced and grabbed my arm as I "danced" out of range. I looked down and saw my own blood running from the cut down my arm. I just shook the pain off and stepped backwards.

She charged again, but this time I ducked her slash and punched her in the gut, snapping my elbow up into her throat to restrict her breathing. She grunted again, but slashed me across my exposed back. I winced and slipped a little, thanking the gods that she hadn't managed to sever my spine. I looked up at her, snarled and grabbed her ankles and the hand that held the knife to pin it.

I scooped her up in a wrestling move so she was draped over my back. I then allowed myself to fall backwards so that Maria hit the ground first and then my weight hit her. She exhaled explosively as I landed on her and I heard one of her ribs crack. I quickly rolled back off her, kicking her in the shoulder with the shoe knife as I moved.

I snapped back up and dropped back into a fighting stance as Maria slowly staggered to her feet. Her lip was split and she spat some blood out onto the floor.

"That's it?" she taunted, rolling her neck out and stretching her ribcage, despite the fact that she now had a broken rib.

I scowled hard, thinking that move would have stunned her enough for me to be able to cut her throat. Maria was not going to go down easy. She was so jacked up on morphine that nothing short of a bullet to the head would stop her. She seemed to notice my predicament and grinned evilly.

Something behind her caught my eye. The pistol I had intended to use against Nikolai lay just behind Maria's foot. There was a bullet chambered in it and at least three more shots that were inside. I had to get to it and end her. But I would have to use a skill that I had sworn I would never use again.

_It's a good thing I never swore on the River Styx,_ I thought as I put on my best "scared spy" face, as Yuri had once called it.

"Maria, watch out!" I yelled and pointed behind her. "It's Sergey!"

She, being the dumb bitch she was, turned and looked, forgetting that Sergey would have shot us on sight if he had seen us. I bull rushed her and swung my foot into her back, trying to sever her spinal cord in case this didn't work. The knife sunk in, but I missed the bone. She whirled and managed to throw me around in a circle to the ground. I grabbed the pistol up as I fell and held it close to my chest. I faked being hurt badly, trying to crawl away with one arm while I flipped the safety off the pistol.

"You can't beat me," Maria taunted, touching the wound I had just given her on her back and staring at the blood on her fingers. "I know I'm dead from all this, but you've got no chance of beating me here, spy. I will kill you and then I will kill Nikolai and end this Soviet threat once and for all."

I turned to face her and raised the pistol. I aimed at her face and smiled as fear covered her expression. She was beaten, finished, and going to die soon.

"I do not love Nikolai anymore," I told her. "But I care about him. And this is what happens to people who threaten those I care about."

I pulled the trigger and shot her between the eyes. Her entire body jerked backwards from the force of the shot and she fell backwards, blood flowing freely from the new hole in her forehead. Her eyes were still open as she let go of the knife and it fell to the floor into the puddle of Nikolai's blood.

I got up and picked the MP5 up from where I had dropped it, along with the dress jacket Maria had been wearing and slid it on under the flak jacket. I couldn't risk anyone seeing the tattoo, it would blow my cover worse than Maria telling Annabeth who I really was. I checked Nikolai one last time before I grabbed the dolly and wheeled the Stalin Bomb back the way. The gunfight was dying down, telling me that the Spetsnaz men would be coming soon to collect the bomb, but they would only find Nikolai, somehow still alive. I suppose Sergey would consider it a win, seeing as they still got Nikolai back.

I put the knife back in my shoe before I started to wheel the heavy crate through the isle that I had come through, hearing frantic shouting in Russian from behind me where Nikolai was laying.

"Derr'mo," I grunted, knowing that I would get caught if I didn't put my ass in gear. _(Shit.)_

I pushed as hard as I could and moved the crate as fast as I could towards the exit. I didn't know how we were going to get off this rock of an island and back to either New Rome or Camp Half-Blood, but first we needed to get out of this warehouse with the Stalin Bomb. And we needed to be alive in order to do that.

I came to the emergency door of the warehouse, where Leo and Percy were trying to kick it open. Leo was tugging on a crowbar he had jammed into the crack, but the steel door wasn't budging.

"Leo, Percy," I grunted. "A little help, please?"

They abandoned the crate and ran over to me, pushing the dolly forwards. I walked over to the door and tried the handle, only searing my palm. The metal was hot as if it had recently been fired.

"Maria's guards welded it shut," Leo grunted. "We've been trying to crack it open for the last fifteen minutes!"

"They didn't want anyone to get out," I said to myself. "How's Annabeth?"

"Better, thanks to you," came a weak voice.

Annabeth was sitting near the door, looking much better than before. And I mean that she was conscious now. She was still in no condition to stand and walk, much less fight against trained killers. But she still managed to give me a weak smile.

"Where's Ivanovich?" she asked.

"I couldn't kill him," I said, in a sort of half-truth. "Kamarov came up behind me and Maria with six men and started shooting before we could put a bullet in Nikolai's skull. Maria took a round to the head as we tried to run. I'm sorry, guys, I couldn't save her."

"Why are you wearing that?" Leo asked, pointing to Maria's jacket.

"Long story," I said. "I'll tell you later. Right now, you guys should stand back."

Nine times out of ten, that excuse will suffice for any problem. This was one of those nine times.

I unslung the MP5 and pointed at the door.

"Cover your ears!" I said as I flicked the safety to full auto.

I emptied what was left of the thirty-round magazine into the door, sunlight streaming through the holes in the steel. I sprayed the entire door with gunfire; the SMG kicking hard into my shoulder was so many rounds were fired. Once I was out of bullets, I threw the empty SMG aside and drew the pistol I had used to kill Maria. I aimed at the lock and fired the last three shots into it, breaking it wide open. I tossed it aside and backed up a few steps before I ran at the door and kicked at the lock. The steel door banged open easily, making an easy exit for us and one that we could get the Stalin Bomb through. The sustained fire from the MP5 had shattered the metal that Maria's men had welded over the frame, making the door easy to breach.

"Let's go!" I yelled as I draped Annabeth over my shoulder, waving Percy and Leo forwards.

I ran forwards out onto the tarmac of the airport, suddenly jumping back behind a baggage truck when a bullet whizzed my head. I yelped and jumped as three of the Spetsnaz troops from the warehouse ran forwards, guns blazing. I cursed rapidly in Russian and looked down at my shoe, knowing I had really brought a knife to a gun fight.

"Fuck irony," I said to myself as I searched for a way out of this situation.

My phone suddenly buzzed in my pocket. I dug it out, ducking reflexively as another bullet stuck the ground next to me.

"Hello?" I yelled over the sound of gunfire.

"Natalie? It's Clarisse," said the Ares girl over the connection. "How's Havana?"

"Oh, I couldn't complain," I said sarcastically, waving so Percy and Leo wouldn't follow me out here into the field of fire. "The people here _couldn't_ be friendlier!"

"Wait, is that gunfire?" she asked.

"No shit!" I yelled. "Sergey Kamarov's here with Ivanovich for the Stalin Bomb. We managed to get it before they did, but our informer took a round to the head."

"Give me the sit-rep," she said.

"We're at Havana International Airport, outside hanger seven," I said. "I'm pinned down with Annabeth behind a baggage truck by three hostiles with SMGs. I've got nothing in terms of ordinance except for a flak jacket and Annabeth's hurt pretty badly."

"Can you hold your position?" she asked.

"Sure, if I had an RPG," I joked. "That would be helpful right now."

"On my way," she said.

"Wait, what'd you mean by that?" I asked. "Clarisse? Clarisse, hello? Damnit, did you hang up on me?"

No answer came, so I assumed that was a yes. I looked over at Leo and Percy who were both looking around nervously, switching from me to the soldiers, who seemed to have an unlimited supply of magazines. .

"What do we do?" Percy mouthed.

"Run!" I mouthed back. "Get help!"

"Natalie, I think I might be able to set this thing off," Leo said, jerking his finger at the Stalin Bomb. "Maybe we can use it to blackmail them?"

"Don't even try," I mouthed. "Nukes are _way_ outside your area of expertise, gear boy."

My phone rang again.

"Clarisse, what did you mean that you were on your way?" I yelled, flinching and covering Annabeth with the flak jacket.

"This," she said.

There was a short, loud explosion from the other side of the truck, followed by the scream of a high-speed projectile. A second later, the ground around the Spetsnaz men exploded from under them, tossing their bodies into the air like they were weightless before sending them to the ground, reminding me that gravity can be a real bitch to those who aren't careful.

I peeked around the edge of truck at the crater in the tarmac. Right away, I saw that two of the men were dead, their bodies twisted and deformed by the explosion. The third one was dragging himself back towards where his gun had fallen. I ran out from behind the truck and snatched it up before he could use it at all.

I swallowed when I saw the man's face. The left half of it had been blackened by the explosion and he was probably now blind in that eye.

"Stop," I said to him in Russian, unloading the PP-2000 and tossing the gun and magazine in two different directions. "You're hurt, wait here for help."

The soldier blacked out before anything else could happen. I rolled him onto his back so he wouldn't get hurt by anyone before I jogged over to Clarisse, who was stepping down from the ladder that led to the roof of the adjacent hanger, the dropping the launcher for an RPG-7 as she ran.

"Damn," she said, looking past the crater at hanger-7. "What happened?"

I gave her a condensed version as Percy and Leo walked up, respectively carrying Annabeth and the Stalin Bomb.

"Pretty ballsy of you, Jackson," she grunted. "Tackling an armed soldier, I didn't think you had it in you."

"Save the banter," Leo grunted. "How did you get here?"

"I took your little side project for a spin," she shrugged. "Will said I could use it to bring you guys back to Camp."

"You took the _Denali?"_ he said. "But…it's not finished! I still have to finish the engines and the screw needs replacing and the deck gun needs a complete overhaul!"

"Will said they finished that this morning," she shrugged.

"Hold on," I said. "Do you mean you have a plane here?"

"A ship," Leo said. "I built the _Denali_ in case something happened to the Argo II, which now thanks to the Red Air Force, has now been pretty much destroyed."

"We need to get to Camp right away then," Percy said. "Annabeth needs a doctor right now!"

"Yeah, but here's the thing, Jackson," Clarisse scowled. "We can't go back to Camp. There's a fleet of Russian subs patrolling the East Coast looking for us. It took me thirty minutes to convince one of them that I was just a tanker going to Havana from Canada with oil. Thank the gods that my accent was good enough for them to buy it."

"Look, Annabeth needs a doctor," Percy said. "We need to get her help first."

"I've got a first-rate doctor aboard the _Denali,_" Clarisse said as she turned and walked towards the road that led out of the airport. "Come on, I've got a car."

"You've got an Apollo kid?" Percy asked.

"Nah, they'd just fuck her up even more," Clarisse snorted. "I've got the doctor from the USS _Indianapolis_. He's better anyway."

"Wait, the _Indianapolis_ went down in WWII," Leo said. "How do you have their doctor when he's been dead for, what, seventy years?"

She grinned in a sort of predator-ish sort of way. "Ares tribute, gear boy," she said. "They lost their war, so they owe Ares big time. Ask Jackson, he'll remember our little adventure aboard the CSS _Birmingham_ to the Sea of Monsters."

I jogged ahead to her and pointed at the launcher. "Where'd you get that?" I asked.

"Gift shop," she joked. "I found a crate marked "weapons" and opened it. Lucky thing there was an RPG, since that's just what you needed."

"Thanks for the save," I said.

"No problem," she smiled. "Now our only problem is getting out of Cuban Waters and back into American territory without getting our asses torpedoed to Hades and back."

"What about the Panama Canal?" Percy asked. "Luke used it to get his ship around the coast to attack California. Could we get the _Denali_ through it without the Russians knowing?"

"Maybe," she shrugged. "But it's a risky move."

"What other choice do we have?" Leo asked.

"Fine," I said, looking at Annabeth's unconscious form draped across Percy's arms. "Get Annabeth to the doctor and then we sail for American waters."

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(Major Sergey Kamarov)

(Hanger 7, Havana International Airport)

"NIKOLAI!" I yelled.

My best friend was still lying on the cold floor, but it looked like someone was here. He was laying on his back now and his wound…was bandaged?

"Squad, check in," I said into my earpiece. "Have any of you treated to the doctor?"

"Nyet, Comrade Major," said one of the men from across the warehouse. "We've been spread too thin."

"Regroup at my position ASAP," I said cutting the connection.

I felt Nikolai's jugular for a pulse and found a stronger one than I had expected. Someone had seen to his wounds, bandaged it up tight with a t-shirt so he wouldn't bleed out. He would live, but it would be a long, _long_ time before he could work again. His shoulder would need a lot of attention, but the bleeding was slowing down enough for him to be moveable.

"Call an ambulance!" I yelled as the surviving members of my team ran over. "And get rid of your guns right now!"

"Da, Comrade Major!" they said, tossing their guns into the fire to eradicate the evidence.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked down to see Nikolai conscious. His arm was shaking, but his eyes were clear now.

"Sergey," he panted.

"Calm down, Nikolai," I said. "It's over, Maria is dead. We've won this battle."

"The Stalin Bomb," he panted. "Where is it?"

"Gone," I hung my head. "They managed to get it while we were fighting. I'm sorry, Nikolai. I think we've just lost this war, though."

"Nyet, we haven't lost yet," he said. "I got…the card installed…before…they shot me."

My eyes sprung open all the way. With the locator card in the warhead, we could track it over the entire globe.

"So we've not lost yet," he grinned.

"Da," he nodded as he relaxed. "But…I saw."

"What?" I asked. "What did you see?"

"Not a what," he said. "It was a who."

He looked at me and right away I knew who had been here. Maria's body had small slashed all over it with bruises from a shoe kick. A KGB issued shoe knife.

"Natalia," I hissed.

"Why was she here?" he nodded. "Why did she…"

"What?" I asked.

"Save my life," he looked at me, asking me for an answer I didn't have. "She bandaged me up, Sergey. And I heard her shoot Maria. Why save me when she hates me and all of us?"

I swallowed. "I'm not sure," I said as an ambulance pulled onto the tarmac and the paramedics got out with a gurney. "But we will find out."

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(Annabeth)

It turns out that the _Denali_ was a lot bigger than I'd thought.

She was a commercial supertanker that the Hephaestus kids had bought and overhauled completely with demigod magic and mortal weapons. Depth charge guns, .50 mm turrets, and a 150 mm cannon mounted on the deck. I was sure the Russians wouldn't think it was us.

The ship was still an official "work in progress" for Cabin Nine. Trying to buff the rust off a ship longer than two football fields was hard, I could imagine that. But the crew was nice enough for dead American sailors and the doctor had done a really good job patching me up after that crate fell on me. As we sailed south through the Caribbean Sea, I thought of all the Russian subs circling Cuba's ports for a ship that wasn't there.

"Three days until we're through the canal," Percy told me as he left me in my bunk to sleep.

"Alright," I yawned. "Goodnight."

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(Captain First Rank Nikolay Borissovich Gorshkov)

(South Pacific Ocean aboard Kirov-Class battlecruiser, _Stalingrad_)

(Three Days Later…)

I scanned the surface of the sea with my eyes. It was pitch black outside and you could hardly see anything on the surface, but it still made me confident that we would find what Moscow wanted.

We had put to sea earlier in the week with an emergency order from the Kremlin. Our entire Pacific Fleet was set up in to blockade the border between Mexican Waters and American Waters for a single ship that had escaped our Northern Fleet's submarines through the Panama Canal.

_Ustinov must be raging,_ I smiled, knowing how the former missile sub captain insisted that our subs be able to hunt and kill ships and submarines effectively and efficiently. And he had been shamed by a few children in a tub.

It was up to us now. I was in charge of my own ship, the mighty _Stalingrad._ The largest battlecruiser in the Soviet Navy, she was near unsinkable in combat. She was about twice as large as a normal Kirov-Class, but still carried the same internal designs, making her a formidable opponent. Armed to the teeth with .30 mm cannons, anti-ship missiles, a Surface to Air Missile defense system, and my own special addition…the Americans would not even be able to fire a single shot before they sank.

Moscow had allowed me to add something to her design: a 16"/50 caliber Mark 7 battleship cannon. The Americans had designed the anti-ship weapon for their Iowa-Class battleships, but we had taken their design and improved upon it. The standard 16"/50 shells had not proven to be effective, so our engineers had decided to "up the ante" a little. By packing the explosive charge in the shell with C4 and a shock induced detonator, we had increased the damage and velocity of the shell tenfold. We called it the HAMMER System, because it broke ships like a HAMMER. One salvo from the triple-barrel turret was enough to gut any vessel through and through. The only problem was that the gun was incredibly difficult to aim while moving, so it could only be used in standard ship-to-ship combat. But the benefits outweighed the cost on this one, so I promised myself to use it at least once in my career.

"Comrade Captain," said Captain Second Rank Grushavoy from the door into the bridge. "We are being hailed on the radio."

I followed my First Officer back to the bridge and picked up the red telephone.

"This is the _Stalingrad,"_ I said. "Captain Gorshkov, speaking."

"_Stalingrad,_ this is frigate _Trotsky,"_ said the other captain. "We are tracking a lone supertanker approaching the blockade. We are currently calling you to investigate."

"Do they know you are tracking them?" I asked.

"Nyet, they are continuing on their course," he said. "Comrade, this is just my personal instincts speaking…but I think these are the Americans that Moscow is looking for."

I swallowed. I knew what gut instinct felt like and it was hard to ignore. Very few times had it been wrong in the past, so I decided to play on this.

"_Trotsky, Stalingrad,"_ I said. "Comrade, are you a gambling man?"

"Nyet, _Stalingrad,"_ he said.

"Well, now's the time to be one," I said. "Hail this tanker and tell them who you are. Say you are inspecting all ships for weapons being smuggled into Russia and that you have authorization to search their ship. I will proceed to cut them off before they can try to run. If they run, then we will quarantine them and board them."

"Da, _Stalingrad,_" said the other captain. "We will report back when we are finished."

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(Annabeth)

(Supertanker _Denali,_ headed to California)

I stepped out of the shower and quickly dried off. The supertanker didn't move much since it was such a big ship, but I was still trying not to think about getting seasick. I threw on the clothes I had worn when we has escaped Havana and looked in the mirror. After I had decided that I looked like absolute Hades, I decided to take a walk around the ship before bed.

I went up to the deck and sat down on a crate, staring out at the black water, lit only by the stars. It was then that I realized that things were going really well for us. We had the Stalin Bomb and were only a few days away from American Waters. We had escaped Kamarov and his men in Havana, Ivanovich was most likely dead from that bullet he took in the chest, and we had only lost Maria.

_She needs to be remembered,_ I thought. _What she did was brave beyond measure._

To lie to people like Nikolai Ivanovich and Sergey Kamarov in their face when they outnumber you and torture you…that must have taken real heart. Maria Cortez had given us the Stalin Bomb, a godly advantage in the war, at the cost of her own life and held off the Soviets until we could escape. Now we owed her everything we had gained by this trip. I hoped that she would go to Elysium for her heroism.

"Hey, Wise Girl," Percy said from behind me, scaring the crap out of me.

My body was still pumped up on that adrenaline rush from our battle with the Russians, so without thinking, I jammed my elbow backwards into his gut, winding him. He exhaled explosively and doubled over. I took this opportunity to grab him by his shirt collar and pull him over my shoulder. I drew my knife and pressed the blade to his throat in a literal heartbeat before I realized what I was doing and to whom it was doing it.

"Uhhh," he said as the tip of my knife slid back across his throat as I took it away. "I guess that this is one way to say hello."

"Sorry!" I covered as I let go and he moved to sit next to me, rubbing his solar plexus from where I had hit him.

"It's alright," he smiled. "Just be careful next time I want to spend some time with you."

"Well then, Seaweed Brain, don't sneak up on me like that," I said as he sat next to me. "Next time, I might actually stab you."

He grinned and put his arm around me. "So I take it you're feeling better?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "Three days of rest really helps."

"I think we might win this," he said after a bit of romantic silence. "The Russians can't do anything without the Stalin Bomb."

"Where is it?" I asked.

"In the hold, guarded around the clock," he said pointing down at the metal surface of the deck. "We should be in U.S. Waters in less than two days."

"Once we get to New Rome," I said, "we need to destroy that thing right away. We can't risk the Russians coming after it and taking it back."

He nodded and hugged me close.

"I might need to do something first," he whispered in my ear. "Something I think both of us might like…"

"Really?" I pretended to be surprised. "What would that be?"

"You're a smart girl," he grinned. "Figure it out."

Before either of us could do anything else, the intercom loudspeaker blared.

"Annabeth, we have a problem," said Leo.

I got up and picked up the nearest radio. "What's going on?" I asked.

"We're being hailed," he said. "By a frigate."

"So?" I asked. "Tell them we're just a cargo freighter heading to San Diego."

"Annabeth," he said. "This is a _Russian_ frigate."

Fear closed up my throat. There was no fucking way that this massive cargo ship could outrun a nuclear frigate without a jet engine strapped to the stern.

_Unless…,_ I got an idea. "Percy, come with me!"

Percy got up and ran with me to the bridge, where Leo, Natalie, and Clarisse were already waiting.

"Put this tub into full gear!" I ordered. "Set course for the nearest U.S. waters!"

"Annabeth, that frigate will catch us in like three hours," Leo said as he pointed to the radio. "They've already ordered us to stop and allow them to search us for weapons."

"Clarisse, get the crew ready for combat," I ignored him. "Have them start loading all the guns we have onboard."

"They won't do us any good in this kind of fight," she said, grimly. "That frigate will just outrun our shots."

"Natalie, where is that frigate?" I asked.

"A few hundred miles behind us," she said, looking at the radar display. "But it's gaining on us faster by the minute."

"Annabeth, what the hell are you trying to do?" Leo asked.

"Save the world's only chance for survival," I said nonchalantly as Percy cleared his throat.

"Annabeth, the best thing we can do is dump the Stalin Bomb in the sea," he said. "I can go back and get it once the frigate is gone."

"They probably have a submarine with them," I reminded him. "It'll get the bomb before we can. Have someone put a floatation device on it in case I'm wrong."

"Wrong about what?" Leo asked.

"How fast this thing can move with a little help," I grinned.

No one caught on, so I just sighed and turned back to Percy.

"Percy, can you move this tub along?" I asked. "Or at least slow that frigate down until we can put enough distance between it?"

"I can do both," he grinned as he realized my plan. He closed his eyes. "Hold on tight!"

The _Denali_ suddenly jumped forwards at double its normal speed. We all fell down as it crashed through the water at high speed. We must have been doing at least thirty knots.

"They'll never catch us now!" Leo said as he opened the throttle to full and the ship went even faster. "Not at this speed. Annabeth, you're a genius!"

I grinned as the ship sped forwards through the water. "What about the flotation device?" I told Natalie.

She nodded and started ordering Clarisse's undead crew around from the microphone.

"It's happening as we speak," she said after a few seconds.

"Excellent," I laughed.

"_Denali, _this is the Soviet frigate _Trotsky,_" the radio suddenly crackled in English, mutilated by a heavy Russian accent. "You will heave to now and prepare to be boarded. If you do not comply, we will sink you!"

I got to my feet and grabbed the radio.

"This is Annabeth Chase of the _Denali_," I said. "Who am I speaking to?"

"Captain First Rank Igor Yevgeniyevich Kadishev," he said.

"You said you are looking for weapons aboard my ship?" I asked. "Is that correct, Captain?"

"Da," he said.

"Does a Mark-1 Stalin thermonuclear warhead count?" I asked as I saw the weather instruments cloud up, indicating a fierce storm. The waves became whitecaps and frothed about furiously in our wake. The storm Percy was brewing would not slow us down one bit.

"The Stalin Bomb!" the Captain said. "_Denali, _this is your last warning. Heave to now or you will be fired on."

"Catch us if you can!" I yelled into the receiver over a crash of thunder.

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(Captain First Rank Nikolay Borissovich Gorshkov)

(A few thousand miles south of the blockade line…)

"What?" I yelled into the radio.

"They have the Stalin Bomb on that ship!" said Captain Kadishev. "That's what Moscow wants!"

"Chase them down," I said. "You should be able to catch them in a few hours by yourself, Comrade."

"I cannot!" he said. "There is a hurricane that I cannot sail through. I am already being pushed off course by currents. Comrade, you'll have to catch them yourself."

"Fine," I said. "_Stalingrad_ out."

I hung up the telephone and looked around at my bridge crew.

"Reactor to eighty percent!" I ordered. "Come about on course 3-1-5, give me thirty knots."

I looked at my gunnery officer. "Warm up everything," I said. "Fire missiles when we are within range. I want that thing on the bottom in thirty minutes of our engagement."

"That is not possible, Comrade Captain," he said. "The storm is jamming our guidance system. We will have to fire line of sight with all our weapons."

"Fuck!" I cursed as the _Stalingrad_ cut through the waves like a hot knife through butter. "What do we have?"

"All our missiles are offline," he repeated. "But our autocannons are functioning at normal capacity. The HAMMER System is also functioning, but I don't see how it will be useful to us."

"Load everything," I said. "Even the HAMMER."

"Right away, Comrade Captain," he said as he started typing.

"Increase speed," I ordered. "Go to thirty-five knots. Set course to intercept the tanker before the blockade."

The bridge became a flurry of activity as I checked my watch. It was two-thirty AM now.

"Someone give me an ETA on our intercept," I ordered.

"Three hours, Comrade Captain," said my navigations officer. "At that time we will be able to see them."

"And we will be able to shoot them," I grinned. "Comrades, we must not lose this ship! The Stalin Bomb is aboard that rust bucket as with the hopes of our Comrades back in Moscow. We must not fail!"

"Engineering reports the reactor is functioning at eighty percent," said Grushavoy over by the intercom speaker. "But they say one hundred percent is possible. Comrade Chief Engineer recommends that we go to that."

"Then go to one hundred percent," I grunted as I sat down in my chair and grabbed some coffee from the table.

"Aye, Captain," he nodded and passed the orders on to engineering.

Time aboard the ship passed in a caffeine-induced blur for me. I must have had sixteen cups to keep myself awake through the night as the _Stalingrad_ smashed through the waves towards our prey. I glanced at the clock to see it was about five in the morning. The storm had gotten worse outside, almost like it was trying to push us backwards.

"Comrade Captain!" yelled my SONAR officer, tearing off his headphones. "Massive water displacement heading our way. Size matches…eight hundred feet! Captain, I think they've just shot a tidal wave at us!"

"All ahead!" I jumped from my chair. "Come about on course 2-1-9. Move to flank speed!"

"Comrade Captain, that won't do us any good," said navigation. "The wave has just matched our speed and doubled it. It is also long enough to swallow us."

"ETA of impact?" I asked.

"Three minutes, Comrade Captain," he said and started the clock.

I watched the numbers count down. A wave that size would certainly swallow my ship and capsize it without a second for the men to abandon.

"Now two minutes and thirty seconds, Captain," said Grushavoy.

"We're dead," moaned SONAR.

"No…" I said, staring out past the rain at the massive HAMMER turret, all that firepower was now useless in this situation. Unless... "No we aren't. Warm up the HAMMER now!"

"Impact in one minute and forty-five seconds, Captain," Grushavoy said.

"Bring that turret online now!" I shouted.

"Aye, Captain," said weapons. "HAMMER system is now online."

"Fire all three turrets at that wave," I ordered. "Two salvoes, Comrade, and do not miss."

"Captain?" Grushavoy asked.

"Fire now!" I yelled as the timer hit ten seconds.

"Firing!" yelled weapons as he pulled the trigger.

The shot lit up the stormy sky like a bolt of lightning, no, it was brighter than that. The sea was illuminated in that single moment and I saw everything. The wave towered in front of the _Stalingrad,_ dwarfing it like an ant to a human. Behind it was a large ship with a few lights on in the bridge, which must have been out prey as they tried to outrun us. The roar of the blast split my ears wide open as the three turrets flashed twice, hurling six high-velocity shells at the wave. I prayed that the detonators would activate or we were all dead.

The tidal wave exploded from inside with a flash as the shells detonated inside it. The wall of water broke and parted like a rock split with a hammer and the _Stalingrad_ sailed through it.

Cheers erupted around the bridge as I slumped in my chair. I had gambled everything with that one ballsy move, including the lives of my crew. I was exhausted now as I grabbed my mug and weakly gulped down the last black dredges at the bottom.

"Get me a line to that tanker," I yelled over my ringing ears. "And reload the HAMMER for another shot. Only one salvo this time."

"Targets, Captain?" weapons asked.

"The hull," I said. "No, target their propellers. Let's see if we can cripple them."

"Aye Captain," said Grushavoy with a smile on his face as he handed me the telephone.

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(Annabeth)

I watched as the sea suddenly lit up with a flash and a roar of a massive gunshot. The light showed me what the wave had been supposed to hit and it scared me.

"Where's the frigate?" I asked.

"Gone," Clarisse swallowed. "This is something else."

The wave collapsed and allowed the ship to pass through. It was clearly not a frigate.

"What is that thing?" Natalie asked.

"It looks like a Kirov-Class battlecruiser," Clarisse said, using Are's knowledge of weapons to identity it. "But something's different. That Mark-7 on the bow…it looks like it's been modified."

"If it's a battlecruiser, then it shouldn't have a big gun like that," Leo said, using some of his engineering know-how. "Those are for battleships, right?"

"Yeah, and it just blew the tsunami to bits," I said, putting forth some of my own two cents to this conversation. "It's much more powerful than a Mark-7."

"One hit from that think and we're done for," Leo swallowed. "It'd crack us in half if they hit the right place."

"I thought the boys in Bunker-9 reinforced this thing to Hades and back?" Natalie said.

"We did, but just like Achilles, this thing has a weak point in its armor," he shrugged. "We had to leave one bit with the traditional plating or it'd be too heavy to sail."

"Where's the weak point?" I asked, knowing I would have to coordinate our attacks to keep that gun targeted away from the Achilles Heel.

"The bow," he said. "Right along the seam running down the plates."

I sighed in relief. That alone was a hard place to hit.

"We also have another thing going for us," Clarisse suddenly grinned. "There is a chance that we can win a battle against that tub."

"Earth to Clarisse," Natalie said. "They just blew a tidal wave apart with two shots! They can blow us to Hades with a single round!"

"Yeah, but our guns can actually hit that thing," she said. "The frigate would just run circles around us until we were out of ammo. That battlecruiser isn't fast enough to do that. We could win against it if we plan our moves right and hit the weak points before it can fire that big gun at us."

"_Denali_," the radio suddenly crackled in bad English. "This is the Soviet battlecruiser _Stalingrad._ This is your last chance. You will now heave to and surrender or we will target and destroy you."

"This is the _Denali,"_ I said into the mouthpiece. "Nice toy you've got there."

"Spasiba," said the Russian. "And I will use it again if you do not comply now."

"_Stalingrad,_ we aren't afraid of you," I said into the radio, tersely. "If you want the Stalin Bomb, then you'll have to fight for it."

Clarisse rolled her eyes and snatched the radio from me. "If you want to taunt them," she said, "leave it to someone who can make a decent argument."

She put the transmitter to her face.

"We've already outrun your subs," she sneered as she spoke. "I think we can outrun a tub like yours, Ivan."

"It takes a tub to know a tub," the other Captain said, frustration present in his voice at her racial joke. "But unlike yours, my ship isn't ready to fall apart at the seams."

I saw Clarisse wince. The _Denali_ was covered in rust since she had just been salvaged.

"And I see you have no crew," said the Russian. "In fact all I see are four children trying to be heroes."

I grabbed a pair of binoculars and looked back at the battlecruiser behind us. I focused in on the bridge until I saw two men standing outside the bridge on a small platform. The captain was holding a pair of binoculars and looking right back at me. He was a fairly young man, maybe in his early thirties. His black navy uniform was crisp and clean, as was that of the man standing next to him, who I assumed was the First Mate. His chest was adorned with a good number of medals and stripes, telling me he knew how to sail and fight naval battles decently. This was not a fight to take lightly.

"Give up," the radio crackled. "You cannot win this battle, American. Surrender the Stalin Bomb and perhaps I will let you go."

"I should be saying the same thing to you," Clarisse said. "We have just as many guns as you do."

Before any of us could stop her, she clicked the intercom to talk to the dead soldiers Ares had lent her.

"Roll out the guns!" she said. "On the port side only, move it!"

"Shut up!" Leo exclaimed but it was too late.

The hatches on the port side of the tanker opened and the swarms of deceased WWII sailors pushed up everything the _Denali_ carried: all of the .50 caliber machine guns, both port depth charge turrets, and the 150 mm ship-to-ship turret. She basically showed our entire hand to the Russians before the game even started.

"We have the guns and the crew," she taunted. "And we have the Stalin Bomb secured neatly in our hold. You want it, then come and get it, you commie!"

I smacked my hand to my forehead in exasperation. She was such a dunce to have done that! I just hoped the Russians would realize that, but then I saw how stupid that idea was.

"_Denali, Stalingrad,"_ said the radio. "Challenge accepted. Prepare to meet your gods, Americans. _Stalingrad_ out."

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(Captain First Rank Nikolay Borissovich Gorshkov)

(Three hundred thousand yards behind the _Denali..._)

I hung up the radio and picked up my binoculars again. I studied their weapons carefully, making sure I did not underestimate my enemy. While it was heavily outdated, their arsenal was impressive, almost matching our own.

"Orders, Comrade Captain?" asked Grushavoy.

"Do we have missile capabilities?" I asked, tapping my chin. If we could hit that 150 mm cannon or one of those depth charge cannons, it could cause a chain reaction in the ammunition stores and sink the ship with one shot.

"Nyet, Captain," said weapons. "The storm has passed, but it appears that ship is giving off some kind of jamming signal. Our missiles will not lock on target."

"So we have only our autocannons and the HAMMER, da?" I asked.

"Da," he said. "They are ready as per your orders."

"This will be a primitive battle, then," I mused. "They have no missiles and neither do we."

"Like the Great Patriotic War, Comrade Captain," Grushavoy said in agreement.

"We are within range for another shot with the HAMMER, Comrade Captain," navigation said.

"Should I target them, Captain?" asked weapons.

"It won't do us any good," I said. "We'll run out of ordinance long before we even get close to hitting that thing if we fire now."

I stood there for a minute or so before I walked towards the electronic GPS tactical map. The _Stalingrad_ was a tiny red dot on the blue of the sea, steadily moving forwards. A little ahead of us was a blue dot: the _Denali. _Far behind us was the _Trotsky,_ still fighting the storm the Americans had conjured up. And far, far ahead of us was a long line of red dots, which was our blockade of American waters. As far as I knew, the Americans had no idea of the trap they were running in to.

"How long until we hit the blockade?" I asked.

"Near twelve hours, Comrade Captain," said communications. "They are aware of the situation and have dispatched twelve ships to aid us."

"They won't make it in time," I muttered, sizing up the _Denali. _

I knew it had been recently reinforced, judging from the patches of bright new steel along its hull.

"Let's test the waters," I said aloud. "Bring us alongside this tub and get me a firing solution for our bow cannons."

"Aye, Captain," said both navigation and weapons.

The _Stalingrad_ lurched forwards, matching the _Denali_'s speed and overtaking it.

"Firing solution acquired," said weapons.

"Captain, we are now within range of the enemy," navigations warned.

"I'm aware of that," I smiled. "In fact, I'm counting on it. Target their bow deck with the HAMMER. Ready three salvoes of shells."

"A-aye sir," said weapons, puzzled by my orders. He knew we had no chance of hitting them with the HAMMER while we were moving, even at this range. But he did as he was ordered anyway. "Targeting…HAMMER has acquired target."

"Make ready to fire on my order," I said as I watched the large turret swing to starboard, the triple barrels pointing down at their deck.

"Aye sir," he said. "Ready on your command."

"Mock my ship _now_, you, American swine," I said under my breath. "Fire!"

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(Annabeth)

"I think they're targeting us," Natalie said, pointing out the window. "That big gun is moving."

I looked to see she was right.

"Damn," I cursed. "That thing is fast."

When the Russian ship had moved within range of our guns, at first I thought the captain was either stupid or raging from Clarisse's taunts. I had been mistaken in waiting for the perfect shot for the 150 mm. Now he had his big gun pointed in our faces and we hadn't even finished loading the 150 mm.

Gunfire split the air like a hot knife through butter. I dove to the ground and covered my head as the glass windows around us shattered under a hail of lead. The walls of the bridge were suddenly filled with holes as the Russians fired on us. Bullets whizzed overhead like giant mosquitoes, hungry for blood. When it finally stopped, I got to my feet, making sure not to cut my feet on the shards that now covered the floor. I looked outside. Now that Percy had used up all his strength, the weather had become clear again and bright morning sunlight poured through the window frame.

"Give Percy some nectar," I mumbled to Natalie. "I think we'll need him soon enough."

"That wasn't the Mark-7," Clarisse said. She had a few cuts around her face from the flying glass, but other than that, she was fine.

"That was their autocannons," Leo cursed, wiping crystalline powder away from his forehead. "But I didn't see them move to target us!"

"It was a diversion," I murmured as Percy passed out from trying to keep us moving at our current speed, now thoroughly spent. Natalie tried to give him some nectar, but he refused to swallow any of it.

"A diversion?" Leo asked.

"They knew we were afraid of their big gun," I said, more to myself than to him. "So they made a big show of lining up the perfect shot with it so wouldn't look for their smaller guns as they targeted us."

I looked out at the bridge of the _Stalingrad. _

"Their captain is a tactical genius," I said. "This is not going to be easy."

"Fight fire with fire," Clarisse said as she grabbed the intercom. "All guns: return fire now! Target the stern and give them everything you've got!"

Before I could stop her, the entire port side of the ship lit up with a series of flashes. The 150 mm thundered twice as the smaller .50 caliber turrets chattered rhythmically.

But it turns out that her haste made us some progress. We had apparently caught them off guard, as the barrage of gunfire we had launched slammed into the _Stalingrad_ without a hint of reaction. The large ship listed to port slightly, almost like the bullets were trying to push it over, but then righted itself, rocking slightly in the water as it moved.

_Maybe they didn't expect us to react that fast?_ I thought as the massive battlecruiser suddenly began to slow, two large holes punched in her aft hull section. Both holes belched smoke from the interior of the ship. _Maybe we can still win this?_

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(Captain First Rank Nikolay Borissovich Gorshkov)

"Damage report!" I shouted into the intercom, hauling myself to my feet.

"Screw two is failing, Comrade Captain," yelled my chief engineer from below decks. In the background, I could hear the sounds of men yelling and the clanging of machinery. "A small fire has broken out in the engine room, but we have it under control."

"Can we continue on our current speed?" I asked.

"Nyet, we must stop and make repairs," he said.

"Start at once," I said, hanging up the intercom. "Navigation, reduce speed to fifteen knots."

"But Captain, then they will escape!" he said.

"They will hit the blockade soon enough," Grushavoy sighed. "We've done our duty, Comrades."

"Nyet, we have yet to finish it," I said, running out onto the observation platform with my binoculars. "We will not let this insult go unpunished, Comrades. I promise you that."

I watched as the _Denali_ chugged ahead rapidly, my window of opportunity closing just as fast. They were letting us go, knowing that they would most likely lose if they decided to continue this battle. But unlike them, I would not be so merciful.

I swallowed hard, knowing what I had planned would only give me one shot at succeeding. If I failed, they would turn and finish us off with their big gun. But it was a gamble worth taking.

"Is the HAMMER still online?" I asked over my shoulder.

"Da, Captain," said weapons. "The three salvoes you requested are still loaded and ready."

"Load every shell we have," I said. "The ones that can't fit put aside and load when we have space. And prepare to link the autocannons to the HAMMER's targeting system."

"Captain, what about our missiles?" asked weapons.

"Are they online?" I asked.

"Nyet, but they can shoot forwards," he said. "They have a set range of…fifty thousand yards."

"Then position them to face towards course 1-7-1," I said. "Link them to the HAMMER's firing sequence."

"Sir?" Grushavoy asked.

"Do it!" I yelled.

"Aye Captain!" said weapons. "Everything is ready."

"Captain, the HAMMER system will not do anything!" Grushavoy said to me in a low voice. "It is not accurate while we are moving and the stern of the tanker is too small a target to hit at this range."

"Teper' molchat', Grushavoy," I said, as cold as steel. _(Be silent now, Grushavoy.)_

Grushavoy knew not to press me and backed down, stepping away and over to the intercom and hung his head in shame for attempting to disobey the captain: the basis for a mutiny.

"Target the water," I said. "At the stern right below their starboard side screw."

"Aye Captain," was his replay.

"A new heading, Captain?" asked navigation.

"Continue on course," I said. "Maintain our current speed."

"HAMMER has acquired target," said weapons. "Waiting on your order, Comrade Captain."

"Ready two salvoes," I said. "Do not fire autocannons and missiles."

"Ready now, Captain," he said after a second of typing.

"FIRE!" I yelled.

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(Annabeth)

A gun suddenly thundered behind us twice, interrupting Clarisse and Natalie's victory dance. The blasts also woke Percy from his nap, startling him so much that he fell out of his chair.

A shockwave passed through the entire ship, shaking my bones as the level of the world suddenly tilted dramatically. I fell and slid to the right, along with everything else in the room. We all tumbled across the floor and collided face-first with the wall of the bridge, our clothes cut up by the glass on the floor.

"What happened?" Percy asked.

"We're still in the fight," I said. "That was the _Stalingrad_'s big gun."

"Why'd they shoot at the water?" he asked, probably sensing what was going on below the ship.

"I'm not sure," I said as we suddenly started listing to starboard. "Natalie, turn us around to port. We need to finish this now. Clarisse, tell the crew to finish this once we get within range."

They both nodded and started to comply with my directions. Natalie got up and climbed on her hands and knees back to the wheel, since the cabin was still leaning to starboard, and spun the wheel to the left as hard as she could. It stopped when the rudder was as far as it could go, but the ship refused to change course. We were still turning to starboard.

She looked at me with an expression of panic. "Nothing's happening!" she yelled.

I ran outside to the furthest back I could go and looked down at the stern. The ship was tilted at an angle that not enough of the rudder was in the water to change course.

Then the Russian's tactic made sense. That big gun he had must not be very accurate while the ship is moving, so hitting a moving target of any size is impossible in this battle. But hitting a general area is easy. He targeted the water below the propeller to blast us onto this angle to make us turn to starboard…where no guns had been rolled out. He now had a big target with no opposition.

"Clarisse!" I yelled, hoping for some more demigod luck. "Bring out our starboard guns and turn the 150 mm that way!"

I heard her give the order from inside as I looked at the now quickly-approaching _Stalingrad_, now bristling with missile launchers, autocannons, and that massive heavy turret.

"Let's see if we can take this thing with us," I yelled. "FIRE!"

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(Captain First Rank Nikolay Borissovich Gorshkov)

"It worked!" exclaimed navigation. "Captain, the _Denali_ is now turning onto course 1-7-1."

I grinned. "Increase speed," I ordered. "Go to twenty-five knots."

"But Captain, that will endanger our damaged screw," said Grushavoy.

I glared at him. "Grushavoy, in war one must take risks," I told him. "My tactics so far have proved this. Navigation, go to twenty-five knots."

"Twenty-five knots, aye Captain," he said.

The _Stalingrad_ jumped forwards, her bow aimed directly at the _Denali_'s hull like a bull at a matador.

"Captain, enemy is running her guns out," SONAR warned.

"Ready our weapons," I said. "Target everything to the hull and deck."

"Aye sir," said weapons.

"Make ready to fire," I said.

"Captain, enemy is making ready to fire," said Grushavoy from his binoculars.

A bullet struck the window of the bridge, pinging off the polycarbonate bulletproof glass. "Enemy has fired."

"I can see that," I told him. "Hold fire until I give the order."

My weapons officer nodded and held his hand over the controls for the firing system. I waited until I was sure we were within range, which allowed the enemy to fire more guns. Their 150 mm flashed like a camera going off at high speed and I felt the shells impact on a lower deck, slowly gutting my ship.

"All guns," I called. "FIRE AT WILL!"

The bow of the _Stalingrad_ became a second sun as every gun we had fired. Missiles jumped from their launchers in sync with the HAMMER launched every shell it had. The _Denali_ rocked back and forth as we poured everything we had at it. I watched through my binoculars as the reinforced steel plating cracked and gave away under the sheer force of our barrage. But somehow, when the firing was all done and we had spent all our ammunition, the _Denali_ still floated. Despite the fact that it was now nothing more than a floating hunk of Swiss cheese, held together by a few remaining strands of steel girders, it still survived.

I smiled, being glad my gamble had paid off.

"Now to deal the death blow," I murmured. "All hands, brace for impact!"

The warning klaxon began to blare as my officers took cover. We sailed so close to the _Denali_ that I could have touched her before the bow of the _Stalingrad_ sheered her in half. Vibrations shook the hull as the once-mighty supertanker split like the _Titanic_, slowly and silently sinking below the waves.

The crew erupted into cheers. I could hear them through the intercom as well as through the bulkhead walls of the bridge. It sounded like all of Russia was cheering at our victory. I walked out onto the observation platform to look down at the wreckage and watch the stern of the _Denali _disappear. On the deck below, I saw our engineers and deck crew start jumping around with joy. Their hats flew up as I leaned over the rail and spat down at the wreckage of the _Denali._

"No match for a Russian ship," I said as the last piece of metal sank out of sight, a final taunt to the Americans.

"Captain!" yelled my communications officer. "I am picking up a faint signal from the sea."

"American?" I asked, praying that it was not one of their submarines.

"Nyet, it is a Russian frequency," he said. "Wait a minute…Captain I think this is the locator card for the Stalin Bomb!"

We cheered once again. Two victories…one for us and one for Moscow. We had our trump card back in our hand and so the game would continue again on land. Soon the Red Army would grind the armies of capitalism to dust while the Soviet Navy would send any opposition we met at sea to the bottom. I knew that there would be many more battles to come, and I did not intend to lose them.

"Recover that bomb right away," I ordered. "And update the fleet in our status. Say we request immediate on-scene air support until we can move. And someone give me the damage report."

Grushavoy handed me a sheet of paper. It was pretty serious. Both our screws were damaged beyond on-scene repair. We had no ammunition left for the HAMMER or any other of our weapons. The enemy had punched through all our armor on the bow and nearly sunk us. A few compartments on the lower decks had flooded, but they were contained.

The worse of the damage had been done by my "death blow." If the _Denali_ had been any less damaged by our barrage, I would have torn the ship in half when we rammed it. The bow of the _Stalingrad_ was dented and the armor was breached in many places. Not to mention that the HAMMER had been knocked completely offline by the impact.

"We are dead in the water until the fleet can arrive with support," I sighed. "Then it will be some time at the dry dock before we can sail again."

"It has been worth it," Grushavoy said, saluting me. "Comrade Captain, no doubt you will be named Hero of the Soviet Union for this."

I nodded with a smile, seeing how what we had done here was worthy for that award. "We all deserve one, Grushavoy," I told him. "But our actions must show it first."

"But the war is not over," he said. "So there is still time for more action and heroism. As the Americans say "we have won the battle, not the war."

"Not yet, we haven't," I said as I looked out at the sea, where three sweeper teams were cleaning the wreckage for the Stalin Bomb. "But we will win very soon."

**I THINK THIS IS MY LONGEST CHAPTER. ITS 45 PAGES AND OVER 14,000 WORDS, SO I ASSSUME IT IS WORTH READING. **

**COMRADES, THE CONSTEST IS NOW OVER. THE MOVIE THAT THE QUOTE WAS FROM WAS….DIE HARD 5: IT'S A GOOD DAY TO DIE HARD! NOT THAT IT'S IMPORTANT, BUT I THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY TO USE SINCE THE MOVIE TAKES PLACE IN RUSSIA. **

**ANYWAY, REVIEWS ARE NEEDED JUST AS MUCH AS OC CHARACTERS. PLEASE SUBMIT YOUR CHARACTER IN YOUR REVIEW. AND WOLFGIRL 1221, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT. NOW YOU KNOW WHAT A KIROV-CLASS BATTLECRUISER IS!**

**ALSO, I HOPE NOBODY WAS EXPECTING NATALIE/NATALIA TO BE A NICE GIRL. SHE'S A TRAINED ASSASSIN, FOR GOD'S SAKE, SO I HOPE THAT THE FIGHT SCENE BETWEEN HER AND MARIA WAS KICK-ASS GOOD. **

**NOW THE STALIN BOMB IS BACK IN RUSSIAN HANDS, BUT THE RUSSIANS WON'T BE ABLE TO FINISH IT UNTIL NIKOLAI IS HEALED. NEXT TIME: A TEENAGED BOY, AN ARMY OF MONSTERS, AND A SNIPER RIFLE. THE STORY OF PYOTR VELIKY AND THE BATTLE OF SOILKAMSK!**

**UNTIL NEXT TIME…**

**-MickDunD**


	6. Pyotr Veliky and the Battle of Soilkamsk

**Chapter 6: Pyotr Veliky and the Battle of Soilkamsk**

**PRIVET, TOVARICHS AROUND THE WORLD! OKAY, SO HERE IS MY NEW CHAPTER. AGAIN, THIS INSTALMENT OF MY FANFIC CONTAINS ****_SUPER-INTENSE_**** SCENES OF GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, BLOOD, GORE, AND A KID WITH A SNIPER RIFLE AND KNIFE. THE STORY IS NOW ****_VERY LONG_****, SINCE I HAVE'T BOTHERED TO LOOK AT HOW MANY WORDS THERE ARE IN TOTAL. BUT I DO KNOW THAT THIS CHAPTER IS SOMETHING AROUND SEVENTEEN THOUSAND, EIGHT HUNDRED AND FORTY-FIVE WORDS AND SOME FIFTY-ONE PAGES LONG, A PERSONAL RECORD FOR ME! **

**AND NOW A SPECIAL THANK-YOU TO WOLFGIRL1221. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR OC SUBMISSION! HE WILL BE APPEARING IN THE NEXT CHAPTER WITH A FLASH OF LIGHT AND GLORY!**

**AS FOR THE REST OF YOU: IF YOU WANT TO GET IN ON THIS LIMITED-TIME OFFER, SINCE I CAN ONLY USE SO MANY CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY, THEN PLEASE SUBMIT AN OC CHARACTER SINCE I CAN'T THINK OF ANY DEMIGODS OR MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURES TO BATTLE THE RUSSIAN CHARACTERS I HAVE CREATED. HERE IS THE FORMAT FOR THE SUBMISSION:**

**NAME:**

**PLACE OF BIRTH:**

**NAME OF GODLY PARENT:**

**LIVING RELITIVES: **

**WEAPON:**

**POWERS (IF ANY):**

**BRIEF SUMMARY OF BACKSTORY:**

**OKAY, NOW ENJOY THE BATTLE OF SOILKAMSK!**

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(Pyotr Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili)

(Tobolsk, Far East Side of the Ural Mountains, Russia)

(Three Weeks Before the Rankow Prison Incident…)

Terror. That is what it was.

All around me I heard screams, roars, and wicked laughs of satisfaction. I cried freely out of fear, anger, and hatred. But the hot tears that ran down my cheeks turned cold in the freezing winter air of the mountains. Bright poison-green flames licked at the walls of buildings, breathed by large creatures that were so evil that they seemed to be made of pure nightmares. Around them danced smaller ones who looked more human, except they were bathed in fire. They laughed and cheered as my home burned, taking pleasure in the slaughter of my Comrades and friends.

For me as a seventeen year-old boy, I did not understand any of this other than that they were killing for pleasure. I knew they were soldiers because they carried weapons and took orders from officers dressed in strange clothes. But they could not have been soldiers because they killed for pleasure. Soldiers did not take pleasure in ending lives, only monsters did.

My mother and father had died early in the assault, which had only started a few hours ago. They invaded our homes and dragged us into the street where they forced us to fight each other or some of their soldiers with our bare hands. Our police officers had killed five of them before they all died and the monsters rolled through the rest of my town unchallenged. The adults were dragged to fight while the children were carted away behind the front lines. I did not want to see what happened to them.

Father had told me to run into the woods, telling me I would be safe there. I knew he was dead by now, so was mother. But it turns out that I was not safe and that the human-like creatures patrolled these woods with large black dogs, searching for those who escaped. So I sat here in a snow bank with a hunting knife, waiting to be found and killed.

I didn't stop crying all night as Tobolsk burned. People screamed and there were strange flashes of light from behind buildings as they used some kind of weapon on us. I saw an old man running after a group of monsters shouting things in a foreign language that sounded like orders. He pointed at buildings at the monsters ran to them, dragging the people out and killing them in the streets until the snow on the ground was red. Why did they want to do this? We were not soldiers, we were farmers and hunters. The Red Army was far away to the west where they were stationed. There was no reason for these nightmares to be here.

Snow crunched behind me. I looked up from my lap, my fingers gripping my knife tighter. Suddenly, the temperature rose and a light behind me. I smelled a fire and swallowed hard. Perhaps I would be burned rather than slaughtered. I looked at the knife in my hands and the thought of suicide sprung into my mind.

Nyet, I would fight them. I would try and avenge my family, even if it cost me my life. I listened as a feminine voice said something in an unfamiliar language, part hiss, part coo. I felt my fear mutate into rage at that sound. Whoever this monster was, she was calling to me like a lover, trying to seduce me out of hiding. My blood boiled as I silently stood up from my huddled over position and tiptoes around the tree until I was able to strike. I peeked around the trunk and looked at the monster. It was one of the flaming ones, who hissed like an _upyri_ and liked to drink the blood of those it killed. (_Vampire) _Mother had died against one of these things, her entire body burned to cinders in one torrent of flame.

The monster heard me and moved to face me. Its face was bathed in flame as I roared and charged it. It threw flames at me, but I dodged them and tackled it to the ground, ignoring the pain from its flaming touch. It hissed and showed a pair of hellish fangs as I battled it to the death. I slammed its face down hard to stun it, throwing snow on the flames to smother them enough for me to touch it. It wailed and clawed at my face, but I refused to give it any time to recover.

"For my family," I yelled as I raised my knife high above before I stabbed the creature through the face.

It screamed as I twisted the blade deeper into the monster's face, killing it. But somehow it did not die that easily. I took the knife out and stabbed it in the chest, hoping that these creatures died like an _upyri_ did. I felt it convulse and start to die as I stabbed it again and again. I stamped on its face and ran my knife across its wrists, trying to kill this nightmare with as much pain as possible. Finally it died, the flames flickering out to show me what this monster really was.

It was a woman who had been cloaked in fire. She had been beautiful once, but now there was not enough left of her to be beautiful. Her clothes were soaked with her blood, as were my clothes and my hands. I looked at her legs and saw that she had one that looked like a horse's leg, and one that was a human's leg but made of bronze metal. She was no human, she was a monster.

I looked back at Tobolsk, still ablaze with their demonic green fire. I felt my rage reach its boiling point as I heard a young girl scream from within the walls.

"Pyotr, run!"

It sounded like Tania, one of my closest friends. She lived down the street from me ever since I was born. We shared classes at school, we always talked. In fact, I was just working up my courage to ask her to go out with me. I heard her scream again shortly afterwards in a flash of acid-green light, her wail of pain echoing in my ears. She was now gone…gone forever.

"This isn't over!" I yelled at the burning town, shaking the bloody knife at the flames. "I swear, I will kill you all for what you've done!"

I turned and ran deeper into the woods, my eyes leaking more hot tears of rage and hatred. But these did not freeze as they rolled down my face. They just burned harder.

I spent the rest of that night running through the pitch-black woods, heading deeper into the mountains. I tripped and ran into many trees as I stumbled around the woods. Each sound from around me sounded like a threat and I lashed out every time I heard snow crunch, even if it was my own feet. By morning, I was shaking and scared. I couldn't think straight and the entire world seemed to sway. But every time I wanted to just pass out and sleep, to just die in the snow, I remembered Tania's scream and my promise. So every time I felt myself falter, I just picked myself up and kept running. Soon I learned to move correctly in the wilderness, teaching myself how to run fast through the snow, how to climb a tree to find a place to rest my legs or escape a wolf. I ate snow for water and killed small rats for food, eating them raw because a fire would reveal my position. For what seemed like weeks, I lived like that. But not once did I allow myself to sleep.

_Sleep is for the dead,_ I told myself. _And I will sleep when I am dead. Until then, I will live._

I felt my body grow stronger and harder over my time in the mountains. I continued learning about the wild, observing creatures as they hunted and copying them to become stronger. I stopped speaking at all, never talking to myself for conversation's sake. Sound was as good as fire; it told your predators where you were. I needed to stay hidden, so I lived mute.

I tracked my enemies through the mountains each day, following them from up higher up the mountains where they moved like living river of evil. At night, I snuck down and watched them, learning their weakness like how a wolf watches a baby reindeer before it attacks.

There were no humans in this army, only nightmares. The fiery women with the strange legs, giant black dogs who's barks made snow fall from trees, giant men with only one eye, strange snake-like beasts who snorted green fire and spat poison, and other creatures who were so evil I do not want to describe them. They all loved to fight, even if it was against each other. They battled on and off all night, every night, sometimes killing each other. But they didn't seem to care, and that made me hate them even more.

One day, while I was stalking the monsters from higher up the mountain, I heard a branch break from up ahead as something crashed through it. Without thinking, I leapt up into a tree and drew my knife from my belt. I waited and waited as I heard the sounds grow louder and louder, the creature coming closer and closer. I tensed and prepared to leap out of the tree and kill it from above, the knife turning in my hands so the tip faced down to stab hard.

Suddenly, a man broke through the trees below me. I was shocked to see him. It had been such a long time since I had seen a human being that I had almost forgotten what one looked like. He carried a strange gun slung across his back and he was dressed in strange white clothes that made him the color of the snow. He must be a soldier, and soldiers had radios. I could call Moscow and tell them of the army heading towards it! But before I could do anything, the man suddenly cried out and grabbed his shoulder as he fell to his knees, an arrowhead and shaft sticking through it.

Wicked laughter sounded from behind him as one of the fiery women stepped through the trees and into the clearing, another arrow nocked in her bow. She stepped over the man and aimed at his heart. Seeing my only chance for vengeance in danger, I jumped from the tree and tackled the monster to the ground, jabbing my knife through her throat to silence any screams she would make. I left the knife in her throat and grabbed her by her hair. I slammed her head down on a rock three times, breaking her skull and killing her instantly.

I got up and pulled my knife from the body, turning around to the soldier.

"A…are you alright, Comrade S…s…soldier?" I rasped. I hadn't spoken in weeks, so my voice was not perfect.

"I think so," the man grunted, trying to stop the bleeding with his hand. "Thank you, Comrade."

I walked over to his and helped him up into a sitting position against the trunk of the tree I had been hiding in.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked me. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"My home, Tobolsk, was destroyed by the nightmares many weeks ago," I explained. "My family was slaughtered in the streets as were my friends. I have nothing left, so I hunt them. I will kill them, Comrade. I swore I would."

The soldier hung his head in respect and pulled a few medical supplies for his shoulder, setting to work right away. "I was wondering why your hair was silver," he said. "Now I understand."

"Silver?" I asked.

He pulled a small mirror out of his pocket and held it up to my face. I gasped at what I saw. My hair was the color of platinum with a few black streaks running through it. Father had always said I had the hair of a true Cossack, the people from whom my family was descended from and now it was ruined. My eyes were different as well. They were the same color, but now they just looked…lifeless. I looked like an old man with a boy's body.

"It is normal," he said. "You have seen a great tragedy and you were scared."

"I will kill them," I hissed. "Comrade, where is our army? I must tell them of the enemy."

"There is no army in the area," he said. "There is only me."

"Why?" I asked, my fear growing. "We must stop them before they can cross the mountains or they will march on our cities."

He nodded. "And I am not going to be any use to stop them now," he said, looking at his shoulder. "It takes two strong arms to use a Dragunov. I only have one."

"Dragunov?" I asked.

"A sniper rifle," he said. "I am Senior Sergeant Reznov, Siberia guard sniper for the First Shock Army."

"My name is Pyotr Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili," I said. "I am the sworn enemy of these monsters."

"Then perhaps you can help me," he said, grunting as he unslung the rifle. "Can you shoot, Comrade?"

I nodded. I had fired guns before, it wasn't that hard.

"Can you kill with a gun?" he asked. "Can you hit targets from long ranges?"

"Da," I said.

"Can you hunt your enemy without remorse?" he asked. "Use them as bait for better prey no matter what you do to them?"

"It is my purpose," I said.

"Then take my rifle," he said, handing the long barreled weapon to me. "You will kill them, Pyotr. I cannot complete my mission with my arm like this."

"I will kill them," I nodded as he handed me his backpack.

"There is a lot of spare ammunition in there," he said. "But you must not use it all at once."

"Why not?" I asked.

"A sniper is a hunter," he said. "We stalk our prey for weeks if we have to before we take only one shot."

"Why only one?" I asked.

"If that one shot is used wisely," he said, "it will cause chaos among the soldiers. They will become scared and agitated so that they will live their lives in fear of becoming a target. Then they are easy prey."

"Who should I shoot?" I asked.

"Stick to killing the officers," he said. "They control the soldiers, so killing them will terrorize the army."

He showed me how to load and care for the rifle, cleaning it and what not to do. He showed me the silencer and how it is sometimes better to have the enemy hear the shot rather than to muffle it. He also taught me the chain of command and how to identify higher-ranking officers from just squad commanders. He explained that killing a high ranking officer will make the men angry and they might revolt against their general if they are pushed too far. But it takes many deaths to do that, more than I would have the ammunition for to do again. When we were finished, he stood up and looked me in the eye.

"Remember what you have learned, Pyotr," he said. "The lives of our comrades are in our hands."

"I will, Comrade Sergeant," I said. "I hope to see you again one day."

I pointed back down the mountain. "There is a road about three miles back," I said. "It will take you to a small town that the enemy might have overlooked. They have a couple long-distance phone lines that work all year round. Use them to call Moscow while I carry out my vengeance."

"Good luck," he said, clasping my hand before he walked down the slope. "Be strong."

I watched him go, until his body was hidden by the trees. Then I slung my new rifle over my shoulder and walked off in the direction from which the fiery woman had come from. I crept through the snow all day long, my mind focused on taking that first shot. I was already planning how to take that one shot. I would not use the silencer then…allow them to know they were being hunted. Reznov said a sniper is the same as a hunter. The only difference is that a sniper hunts his enemy.

I picked up the army's trail late in the afternoon. I hurried up the mountain and circled them around to the front. I had about ten minutes before they came within range of the Dragunov, so now I was to find my sniper's position and take the shot from there before I disappeared from their sight and waited until the next kill.

I found a large pile of broken boulders which overlooked the path through the mountain. It was the perfect place to take the shot, as there were plenty of large silver-gray boulders to hide in and my hair would allow me to blend in. The one good use it had.

I wriggled up into a tight cave between two of the rocks and loaded the rifle. I slowed my breathing like Reznov had taught me to, counting them to calm my heartbeat. I looked through the scope down at the path below, watching as the scouts came through with their dogs.

"Come closer," I said to myself. "Yes…come on."

More and more monsters flooded the path, each of them bunched into tight formations. At the head of each formation was one monster that was dressed very differently. He or she wore bright colors and had armor.

I selected a monster with one eye as my target. He wore a bright gold and brown chest plate and carried a huge club over his shoulder. He would die today. I moved to track him with the rifle, centering the crosshairs over his one red eye. My finger crept around the trigger as I kept counting my breaths.

He moved within range, absentmindedly driving one finger up his nose like a child. I waited...one…two…three.

My finger clenched, pulling the trigger.

**_BOOM!_**

The Dragunov thundering retort echoed around the valley as the monster's head became a spray of red, disappearing completely as the high-caliber sniper round blew his brains to nothing. The soldiers under his command behind him screamed and scattered as his body toppled backwards into the snow. They panicked, the chaos spreading to the other squads. Their dogs bolted into the woods, their horses reared and threw their riders to the ground, trampling them underfoot. The entire army backpedaled in on itself, tripping up and falling over their fellow soldiers. It was complete and utter chaos. And I relished every second of it.

I covered my mouth to stifle the fit of laughter that tried to escape my throat. Tears streamed down my face, but now they were tears of joy and mirth. I had fought back; I had killed one of their "elites" with one bullet.

I watched them through the scope for a few more minutes before they started to calm down and send some squads forwards into the woods to find me. But I was already gone from that position, and was about a few hundred yards in front of them, waiting for night to fall and my next target to present itself.

I was grinning like a madman as I ran through the snow, the rifle cradled in my grip like a newborn baby. Here was the instrument of my revenge, the tool for reaping souls and damning them. Like Reznov had said, a sniper was a hunter and thus I had come from a town of hunters. Now I had followed the steps taken by my ancestors and become a hunter. But unlike them, I was a hunter of _men._

I followed them through my sniper scope, watching them as the officers enforced discipline via a whip and got the army in fighting shape. They marched on, leaving their comrade's body behind in the snow for the wolves.

_Savages_, I thought, spiting down on their trail from above. _You do not even burry your dead. You truly are monsters. _

They made camp later that day, in the center of a large exposed clearing that sat in the middle of the path through the mountains. It was laughable, because this was the most unsafe place for an army to make camp when they know a sniper is hunting them. Unless they were so stupid that they had already forgotten my first shot, which seemed more and more likely with everything I saw them do.

_Reznov has probably called Moscow by now,_ I thought. _But I need to buy the Red Army some time to get here. _

I swept the camp with my sniper scope, looking for something that I could do to slow their advance through the Urals. All I could see were a bunch of tents and a few crates that were being unloaded by a giant pot. Wait…if it was by a pot then that had to be their food supply.

_An army travels on its stomach,_ I grinned and watched the shadows lengthen on the snowy ground. _This is going to be fun._

Once the dark of winter night fell, I decided to make my move. First, I threaded the silencer Reznov had given me onto the barrel of the Dragunov. If I had to shoot, I would need the stealth. Then, lying on my stomach, I crawled arm over arm down towards the camp, using low lying bushes for cover. Slowly, I approached the camp, slinging the rifle and drawing my knife. The rifle was now to cumbersome and unwieldy to be of any use at this range. Now if it came to fighting, it would be hand-to-hand combat.

Slowly, I came to the edge of the clearing, where I would have to move swiftly and silently to avoid being visible. My knife gripped in my teeth, I propped the Dragunov against a tree and covered it with some snow to hide it before I got to my feet, crouching below the tree line. I watched as one of the one-eyed ones lit a fire under the pot and began preparing some kind of soup inside of it while the others who had been unloading the crates walked off towards one of the tents, talking loudly amongst themselves as they moved out of sight.

_Now!_ I thought as I rushed up to the cook and ran my knife through the back of his skull. He toppled without a sound, the deep snow muffling his fall.

Quickly, I covered the body with snow and grabbed a burning log from the fire. Then I ran to the crates and dropped the fire on one of them, hoping the flame would spread and burn their food. I crouched in the shadow of a tent, watching as the flames began to suddenly die out. The crates must have been soaked in water or something and would not burn.

I frowned and looked for something to help the flames. There was nothing flammable in sight, which made my plan useless. Now I would just have to waste a bullet to achieve my goal of revenge. Snow crunched to the right of the flames and one of the fiery women staggered out to the crates. I swallowed, knowing it she saw the fire then the plan was ruined. But she took no notice of the burning log on the crates, stumbling over to one and tearing it open. She brought out a strange bottle and opened it right away, chugging the contents down. The smell hit my nose and I recognized it: fine Russian vodka, made in my town…by my father. The bottles even bore his seal.

She staggered out of sight with the bottle, giggling drunkenly as she swayed. I saw that she hadn't had the common sense to re-secure the lid of the crate and smiled. Perhaps I could take back what they had stolen from my family and use it. I moved to the crate and grabbed as many bottles as I could. I opened them all and soaked the crates with my father's work. The smell of vodka filled the air and I knew I would have to act fast. I opened the rest of the bottles and used them as well, soaking the tents that surrounded the crates to help the fire spread. I took the last one out, deciding to save it for myself. Once the vodka was all gone, I grabbed another log from the fire and hefted it.

"For Mother Russia," I said. "Oorah!"

I tossed the log on the crates and ran, the food supply of the army exploding in a massive bonfire that rushed across the vodka-soaked ground. I jumped into the bushes, grabbed the Dragunov from where I'd hid it and tore back up the slope of the mountain. I carried the bottle I saved for myself under my arm until I was high enough to watch the entire thing play out. I found a flat rock and dusted the snow off so I could sit. From my perch, I looked down through the scope and laughed as I saw the drunken enemy soldiers stumble about, catching fire as they tried to put it out. I laughed hard and used my knife to open the seal on the vodka before I uncorked it. I toasted the camp below before I brought the bottle to my lips and drank.

"I suppose I can sleep tonight," I said as the screams of the burning reached my ears. "Just for tonight."

I sipped the vodka, relishing the familiar burn on my throat as I drank. Two more sips and I re-corked it, placing it in the ammunition pack I carried.

"Goodnight," I said at the monsters below, the sound of their pain and agony putting me to sleep.

My sleep was dreamless and I was thankful for that. I just rested my body and mind, allowing the stress that had built silently in my muscles to release and ease. When I woke, I realized how tired my I had been. My joints moved and flexed without a hint of resistance. I was thankful for this, as the Dragunov and all my other gear felt ten pounds lighter in my arms.

The army had not gotten the same luxury I had. Parts of their camp still smoldered and their numbers seemed to be slightly smaller through the sniper scope. Their faces were tired and irritated from lack of sleep. Three fights broke out in three different parts of the camp in less than five minutes. I smiled as I watched them flounder. They had no food, no water, and no vodka now. They would go hungry if they did not have food soon and it appears their officers liked to baby their men, as they were standing before a tent banging on their plates with spoons and forks.

_I'll kill that officer_, I decided as I centered the crosshairs on the tent flap, deciding to leave the silencer attached to the rifle. _And there's no need for me to make any noise._

The tent flap opened as I shifted the rifle's stock on my shoulder. I smiled, feeling an unexpected rush of…something. I felt like I needed to pull the trigger now and kill one of them, even if it was just a foot soldier. But I didn't have to do that, as the tent flap opened and out stumbled a groggy looking one-eyed woman.

"Goodbye," I said as I pulled the trigger, the crosshairs centered on her throat.

The rifle made not even a whisper as I watched a hole appear in the monster's windpipe. I smiled and watched as she clawed at her throat, imagining the sound of her choking and dying. I gave a relaxed sigh of relief as she sank to the ground and stopped twitching, dead as a doornail.

The soldiers screamed and scattered, trampling their officers underfoot as they tried to find some cover. Some pushed their comrades away and even threw them out of their hiding places. But most of them ran to the trees and disappeared into the woods, deserting. Reznov had told me the punishment for that in the Red Army and I shuddered at the thought. But the main army was my primary threat and the deserters would starve eventually in these woods or be hunted by the wolves. They would not be a problem for me.

The surviving officers managed to marshal their troops into a formation and move out as fast as they could. They were smart enough to figure out that staying in an expose area surrounded by high places was a very bad idea. I didn't think that they knew I was going after officers yet or they would have hidden in the center of their formation. They packed up and left quickly, leaving the bodies behind without even bothering to recover supplies from their dead. They were savage _and_ stupid. Just like a deer being hunted by a wolf.

I followed them for the rest of the day, deciding to give them a rest. If I killed an officer every day, then they would learn. Perhaps I would wait a few days, maybe even a week before I sniped another officer. I would study them, learn their habits, then kill them in accordance. It was a good plan, I thought: a plan worthy of General Zhukov at Stalingrad.

I watched them through the scope for two days, having to fight myself to stop from killing another officer so soon. I remembered that patience was a key trait to both a sniper and a hunter. If the shot was not perfect, then I would not take it. Another day passed as I stalked them through the snow of the Urals. Their fear was just dying down, I saw, and the officers were marching out in front proudly, wearing all their medals and decorations. Only making them a more noticeable and bigger target.

**(PRESENT DAY)**

I had followed them through the night and early into the morning before I was sure that they had forgotten about me. Knowing this, I decided to take another shot later today, give them a restless night with no sleep. I scanned the terrain for a sniping spot when I suddenly felt my stomach rumble. I hadn't eaten in days and my body was going to need something edible in order for me to go on. I scoured the hills for something to eat. Maybe I could find a mouse, or hopefully something that wasn't raw. I didn't like eating raw meat. It did not taste good at all. A few minutes later, I spied a berry bush along the ridge that overlooked the valley trail where the army marched.

"That is convenient," I said to myself as I slung the Dragunov and walked over towards the bush.

When I got to it, I saw that it was picked clean of berries. There was another one close by just like it. I studied the stems of the bush and saw they were still wet with juice. Someone had come by here recently…very recently. I looked down at the snow around the bush for tracks. If it was a deer, then I would feast before I took the shot tonight. At first look, there was a set of hoof prints around the bush, but a closer told me that they were made by only _two_ legs. And the other leg's print was that of a human foot.

_A fiery woman,_ I realized as I drew my knife and followed the tracks through the bushes.

I followed the tracks past more berry bushes, each picked clean by the monster. I held a special kind of hatred for these monsters. They were the kind that had killed my mother, and the first one I had ever killed was a fiery woman. I would not let her escape me here. Here she was alone, alone in _my_ mountains. She was prey to me.

Suddenly, the tracks were joined by more tracks, but now they belonged to a pack of wolves. The monster's tracks became more frequent, as did the wolves. She was running from them, probably running for her life. I started running, knowing that with how fresh these tracks were, the monster was most likely still alive. And I wanted to be the one to deal her death blow. The wolves could eat her body, but I would be the one who gave it to them.

I heard someone yelling up ahead and grinned when I heard the sounds of canine barks and growls along with it. I rushed forwards and tore through a group of bushed to come to a very small and tight clearing. Surrounded by a group of gray-furred wolves was the fiery woman I had been tracking. Her mouth and hands were stained with purple berry juice and her strange dress was in tatters. I saw that she was very thin and sickly looking, suggesting that she was one of the deserters from a few days ago. She was starving, as suggested by the fact that her face was thin and her arms looked more like sticks than limbs. She was backed up against a tree, both hands pressed against it as the wolf pack circled her. I paused at the edge of the clearing and watched as she used her bronze leg to kick the wolves away when they tried to attack her. She screamed like a city-woman who had visited my town a few years ago when my neighbor's dog, Rasputin, had tried to be friendly with her. She had somehow managed to have Rasputin killed with some paperwork, but I didn't really pay attention to that. What had my attention was how the wolves were getting closer and closer and she was getting paler and paler.

She noticed me standing at the edge of the clearing.

"Please," she said in shaky Russian. "Please help me!"

I looked at her like she was insane.

"Why would I help you?" I asked. "You're not Russian. You're not even human!"

"Just get the wolves away and I will explain," she promised.

"I know you were part of an army that has been marching through these mountains," I said, sitting down so the wolves would not consider me a threat. "Where are you going?"

"I'll tell you once you get the wolves away," she said, trying to barter her life with me.

"No, you will tell me what I want to know now," I said. "Then I may or may not save your life."

She looked at the wolves, then back at me. "We're going to Moscow," she said, breaking the most important rule of a captured soldier: do not give classified information to your enemy.

"Why?"

"We are going to war with your country," she said. "Earth-Mother decrees it."

"And where in your army is this Earth-Mother?" I asked. "I will kill her."

The monster laughed and kicked a wolf away. "Earth-Mother does not march with us," she said. "She does not battle either."

She looked at me with a sense of pride. "Earth-Mother is immortal to your puny bullets and army machines. But she fears the Stalin Bomb so we have been ordered to destroy it and everyone who dares to challenge her."

She suddenly looked at me with confusion, probably at my silver hair. "Who are you?" she asked. "How do you know this about us? And how do you know we've been marching?"

"My name will not serve you in any way," I said. "But you may call me Pyotr."

"Peter?" she asked.

"Pyotr," I corrected. "And I am the one who has been killing your soldiers for the past week. You burned my home a few weeks ago and killed all who I held dear. Now this is my revenge."

"You're the sniper?" she asked. "You look more like a hunter. Or better yet, you look like a wolf with that hair of yours."

She thought about that for a second and laughed like something was funny.

"Peter the Wolf," she said. "Is that what your people call you?"

"Nyet," I said. "And they never will."

She kicked another wolf away. "I've told you all I know," she said. "Now help me!"

"Nyet," I said as I stood up and drew my knife. "You killed my comrades. You will die here."

"You said you'd help me!" she wailed as I walked through the pack wolves, who parted respectfully so I could get close. They knew I was not here to threaten them and I only wanted to kill this monster.

"I never said I would," I growled.

She kicked at me, but I easily sidestepped and slammed my hand against her throat. Something broke beneath her skin and she grabbed at her throat. She looked at me with a burning hatred as she gagged and choked, her windpipe now broken. I watched her die, slowly suffocating in the snow. I kneeled next to her and felt her jugular. I felt her life fade away into nothing beneath my fingertips and watched as a small trickle of blood crept over her lips.

I heard the wolves howl behind me. I stepped aside and allowed them access to the corpse. The entire pack rushed forwards and surrounded the body until I could no longer see it.

"Good eating," I told them as I walked away.

I found a berry bush that the monster had missed and paused to take time to strip it clean. I ate as I walked, enjoying the taste of fruit instead of raw meat for once. The wolves howled again somewhere in the woods behind me, enjoying their food. I smiled, feeling as if I had done a favor to a friend. They would eat well on the monster's carcass and I was eating well on these berries.

About two hours later, I set up my shot from higher up the mountains. A blizzard was coming and I knew I would have to be quick and find shelter. But I would shoot first, just as I promised myself. The army trudged on through the late morning, not seeing the signs of the impending snowstorm. In Russia, a snowstorm was a big issue, just like a sandstorm or a hurricane was a problem in other nations. They would freeze to death by morning.

Suddenly they stopped right in the middle of the road. I paused and set up my shot, centering the crosshairs on the lead monster. But then I saw something in the middle of a road. It was a sign. I shifted my scope to center on the words written there and changed the focus on the lens so I could read the words.

"Soilkamsk, ten miles," I read aloud. "Danger, weak bridge ahead. Detour in three miles."

There was a town down the road and the army was heading towards it! I already knew what they intended to do to the people there. I had to get there first and warn them before it was too late. I would not let them commit the same atrocities that they had done in Tobolsk…to my family.

I looked at the sky and estimated that the storm was maybe a few hours away. Soilkamsk was ten miles away, which meant I would have to run through the open to get there in time to warn the people there. But running meant I would reveal my position to the enemy, something Reznov said never to do and that it could cost me my life. But compared to the hundreds of lives that would be saved if I managed to get there in time weighed against my own life, it was worth the gamble.

I slung the rifle and tore down the slope towards the road. As I left the safety of the tree line, I heard the army shout as they saw me. There was the thundering sound of many feet trampling snow as they chased me, shouting battle cries as they ran. I yelled as I ran as well, but mine was more of a scream. I pumped my arms and legs like the pistons of an engine, trying not to get bogged down in the deep snow. I was thankful of how strong my body had gotten over the time I had spent in the wild. Now I could sprint fast, jump high, and continue at a quick pace for a long time. But it seemed to do me no good against these monsters, who were gaining on me with every second. If I could get to the bridge, then maybe I had a chance, but according to the sign, it was three miles away.

Suddenly, a lone wolf howled in the woods, but the sound was very close and stopped me in my tracks for some reason. The army stopped as well when more wolves howled, the sound washing over the little valley road. I looked to the tree line, drawing my knife for protection. From the shadows of the bushes, I watched as a large gray-furred wolf stepped from the trees and snarled at the monsters. The wolves continued to howl as more and more of them stepped forwards and into sight. There seemed to be hundreds of them as they circled the army from all sides, stalking down the slopes of the valley. But they paid no attention to me as they paced back and forth in front of the monsters. One of them turned to me and stared at me, his yellow-amber eyes boring deep into my soul.

_Go,_ he seemed to say. _Warn our Comrades in Soilkamsk. We will keep them busy for you. _

I swallowed and nodded.

"Spasiba, Tovarich Volk," I said. _(Thank you, Comrade Wolf.)_

I ran as the wolves howled again and attacked the monsters, the sound of a battle filling the valley. Snarls, howls, roars and screams all sounded behind me as I sprinted across the snowy ground towards Soilkamsk. And judging from the number of screams I heard, it sounded like the wolves were winning that fight.

It took me a while to figure out why the wolves had come to help me. But after some time mulling it over in the back of my head, I figured it out. The wolves who roamed Siberia were just as much Russian as I was. And they did not want to see these monsters destroy our nation just as much as I didn't want that. For a few hours I ran nonstop, pushing the agony of my burning muscles and my pounding heart to the back of my head. I could take the pain for now, and I could rest in Soilkamsk.

Finally, I halted at the bridge that the sign had warned me about. It looked fine, but I saw enough to tell me otherwise. The wooden boards were rotted and covered with a layer of blue-white frost and the metal was corroded brown. A few pieces of construction equipment littered the bridge entrance, but it looked like it had been abandoned. Perhaps the workers had crossed it and returned to Soilkamsk to wait out the storm.

I carefully tested one of the planks with the toe of my ratty hiking boot. The wood creaked loudly and fractured under my feet, falling down towards the frozen river below. I swallowed, knowing that the water was below zero and if I fell in, I would get hypothermia and die within minutes in this weather.

_I'll take the detour,_ I thought, turning around to go around to a safer bridge. But in the distance, I saw a large black shape running towards me. A bang like an artillery gun sounded through the still Siberian air, knocking the snow from the trees and breaking some braches.

It was one of the monsters, a giant black dog the size of a tank. It barked again as I unslung my rifle and dropped to one knee, centering the crosshairs on monster's forehead. I fired, but the dog suddenly disappeared and the bullet whizzed off into the woods behind the road. I looked up as the dog emerged from the shadow of a tree three feet from where I had shot at. I turned and fired again, but it did the same thing and now it was getting even closer. I yelled and emptied what was left of the ten-round magazine at the beast, but it dodged every shot. When the last bullet was fired, I quickly reloaded, dropping the empty magazine into the snow and loading another fresh one. The dog barked and I noticed that it was very, _VERY_, close now and that the rifle was now useless. I looked back at the bridge and swallowed hard again. I knew what had to be done and I didn't like it one bit at all, but it was my only option now so I slung my rifle.

"Come on, Pyotr," I said, shutting my eyes and summoning every piece of Cossack courage I had in me. "YAAAAAAAH!"

I ran across the rotten bridge as fast as I could, screaming a loud as I could as the black dog pounded up and jumped at me. I watched as I ran past its shadow, and out of the way of its body slam, but it managed to send its massive front paw into my back and send me sprawling across the bridge. I slid all the way to the edge, cutting myself on the splinters and protruding nails that sprouted from the boards. I felt my legs span into nothing as I slid almost all the way off the bridge, managing to grab hold of a support beam with my left hand. I hung there limply, dangling by a thread between life and death. Somehow, the bridge was holding the dog well enough because I heard as it got to its feet and walk over to me, looking down with its blood-red eyes. I looked at the other side and saw that I was hanging directly at the halfway point of the bridge.

_So close,_ it seemed to say to me as it opened its mouth and startled to drool on me. _And yet so far. _

I wiped away the dog spittle that had fallen on my face with my right hand and snarled at it defiantly, showing that I would not give up. But in my head, that little voice that always fucks around with a person's resolve began speaking, telling me I was doomed and that I should just accept it. But then I heard something that gave me hope: a loud creaking sound from the boards under the dog's feet. I smirked triumphantly up at the dog as I unslung the Dragunov and positioned it into my right hand. The dog growled and I could now smell its breath, which reeked of raw meat and old blood, just like the rest of its body.

"Hey, dog," I grunted, my left arm screaming with protest about the weight it was holding. "I do not know where you come from, but here in Russia, dogs do not smell that bad."

It looked at me funny, like it didn't get what I was about to do.

"So take a bath!" I yelled as I fired the Dragunov into the boards at its feet three times.

The wood shattered under the monster's feet and the massive black beast of the devil fell down into the river with a howl. It crashed through the ice on the river's surface and sank out of sight in the freezing water. Right away, I threw the heavy rifle up onto the bridge and grabbed the support beam with both my hands. I pulled myself up onto the wood as I head the entire bridge give one big groan. Ignoring the searing pain in my muscles, I scooped up the Dragunov and tore like hell across the bridge. The metal beams and wooden planks all gave way and fall into the river directly behind me as I ran. Suddenly, I felt my left foot go back into that weightless state as the wood under it gave way. With one huge rush of strength, I jumped forwards, clawing at the air as I tried to jump the gap that had formed between my legs and solid ground. I flew forwards and into the snow as the entire bridge fell into the water below, breaking the ice and sinking after the dog.

I got to my feet and stood there, panting hard after the whole ordeal. My left arm burned hard when I tried to use it and my legs felt very weak from so much running, but other than that, I was fine. I laughed a little to myself as I stared down at the ruins of the bridge. Now the army would have to go around the detour to get into Soilkamsk, and it would give the people time to prepare.

I limped down the road, both my legs protesting as they had to support my weight again. But I kept going, panting hard as I pushed my body to its limits.

"I will succeed," I said aloud, knowing that I could talk now since there was a river that separated the monsters from me. "I will warn the people."

What seemed like hours later, I reached the outskirts of Soilkamsk. It was late afternoon now and I could hear people getting ready for the snowstorm: taping their windows shut, salting the roads, and bringing their dogs in for the night. It was so peaceful here in this town that I almost forgot about what was coming.

"Hey," said a voice to my right. "Are you okay?"

I looked to see a little girl standing next to me in her warm winter coat. She was so small compared to me, but then again I was very tall for my age, nearly six feet, in fact. She looked up at me with the most innocent brown eyes and for a moment I remembered Tania's face with a pain of loss shooting through my heart.

"Are you okay?" she repeated, shaking me out of my painful memory.

"Da, I am fine," I said.

"You're bleeding," she said, pointing to my cut-up hands and arms. "And you have weird hair."

I laughed at her bluntness. "Yes, I know," I said, pushing a few strands out of my eyes. "It is very strange."

"Wait here, I wanna show my mama," she said as she suddenly ran into a house. A few minutes passed before she reappeared, dragging an older woman along by her hand. "Mama, mama, look at this boy's hair!"

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," said the woman as she suddenly looked at me and screamed.

I blinked and realized that she was looking at the Dragunov that was still cradled in my arms. I winced inwardly, cursing myself for being that stupid to forget about the gun.

"Evanova, get inside," she yelled, picking up a rock from her driveway and throwing it at me.

My battle reflexes kicked in and I caught the rock, plucking it out of the air. The woman ran for her door, but she slipped on some ice and toppled to the ground. She grabbed her ankle and grunted in pain as she tried to get up. Her daughter ran over to her and tried to help her up.

"Call daddy's police number," she told her daughter as she wobbled on her hurt leg.

"Why?" she asked.

"Just do it!" the mother shouted.

"Hey, hey, hey," I said putting down the Dragunov. "I am not a kidnapper."

The woman ran over and snatched up the Dragunov. She lifted the heavy rifle and managed to turn the barrel at me. "Put your hands up," she grunted. "And drop the rest of your weapons."

"Alright," I said, throwing my knife away and putting my hands behind my head. "I am unarmed now. And I am not here to cause trouble."

"Evanova, get behind me," said the mother as her daughter walked around her towards me. "Evanova!"

The girl walked up to me and looked me straight in the eye. "See, mama, he's not a bad guy," she said. "He's hurt and he needs help."

The woman slightly lowered the Dragunov and looked at me. "Where are you from?" she asked.

"I was from Tobolsk," I said, keeping my hands on my head.

"Tobolsk is over the mountains," she said. "How did you get here?"

"I walked," I said.

"Over the mountains?" she said, sarcastically. "In December?"

"Da," I said, looking straight at her.

She seemed to take me seriously and lowered the rifle a little more. "Why?" she asked.

"To warn you," I said. "There is an army coming here. They killed my family and burned Tobolsk to the ground and now they are coming here to avoid the snowstorm."

"You lie," she said, lifting the rifle again.

"Nyet, it is the truth," I said. "I destroyed the bridge and bought you some time, but they are coming as we speak."

I lowered my hands slowly, looking her right in the eye. "I had to warn you," I said. "Please believe me. I mean no harm to you or your daughter but if you do not believe me, then the both of you will be dead by tonight."

She swallowed and lowered the rifle all the way. "What is your name?" she asked.

"Pyotr Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili," I said.

"Then come, Pyotr," she said, handing me back the rifle. "You need to warn the rest of Soilkamsk."

I retrieved my knife and she got in her car and started it. "Evanova, come here," she said, putting her daughter in the back seat.

She drove like a maniac out of the driveway and out onto the small street that led further into town. I surveyed the town to see if I could snipe enemies for a while here while the townspeople escaped, but the buildings were all very small and had easy access to the roofs. I grimaced hard. Soilkamsk would be hard to defend if I had to.

"What is your name?" I asked her.

"Larochka Rochev," she said. "This is my daughter, Evanova Rochev."

Evanova waved hello from her seat and I waved back.

"My husband is one of our police officers," Larochka said as she swerved to avoid a car coming through a red light. "He will be able to help."

"Da, and I do not mean to complain," I said, holding onto the door handle for dear life as she continued to drive aggressively, "but it is not safe to be driving this way with a little girl in the back seat."

"You said we do not have much time," she said. "So I am getting us there as fast as I can."

I shut up after that. Something about this woman scared me more than the monster dog back on the bridge. She was like a mother bear protecting her cub, meaning she would do anything to keep Evanova safe. We entered Soilkamsk's town square less than two minutes later. Three police cars had been tailing us for the last thirty seconds, their sirens wailing as they chased us.

Larochka looked back in the mirror at one of them and smiled. "That is my husband's car," she said. "Hold on!"

She hit the brakes and spun the steering wheel with both hands. The car seemed to drift in a semicircle until we faced the police cars that had been chasing us. I swallowed as I saw her husband get out of the car and run over, his hand on his pistol. Larochka got out with Evanova and waved for me to come out. I grabbed my rifle and got out just as her husband was trying to scold her for doing that with Evanova in the car. When he saw me with the Dragunov in hand, he shoved his wife out of the way and drew his pistol.

"Freeze!" he yelled as he aimed at me. "Drop your gun! Drop it right now!"

Behind me, the other police officers who had also been tailing Larochka's car did the same, shouting at me to put the gun down. The people who had been watching Larochka's stunt driving screamed when they saw my gun and tried to run, but Evanova ran to her father and tugged on his leg, almost as if she was trying to climb up him and pull his gun away.

"Daddy, listen to him!" she begged.

"Feliks, for the love of god, hear this boy out!" Larochka yelled, tugging his gun away.

"Larochka, get behind me now," he said, stepping forwards towards me. "Drop your gun!"

"Fine," I said, putting the Dragunov on the ground. "Now listen to me!"

Her husband ran forwards and knocked me over. Truthfully, I could have broken his neck in three places before he even touched me, but that would not have served my purpose of trying to protect these people. I felt handcuff being snapped on me and I tried to roll off him. He took his nightstick and hit me across the back of my head, which made me see stars as he finished putting the cuffs on.

"Comrade Feliks, hold on," said a new voice.

I looked to see a priest walking towards us, his elaborate silver cross swinging as he strode. He was an old man with white hair and a weathered face, but clear and sharp blue eyes.

"You look familiar," he said.

"I do not know you, Comrade Father," I said. "But please listen, you are all in danger. There is an army coming here, an army of monsters."

The priest looked at me like I was crazy and allowed for the police officers to lead me away towards a car.

"They burned my home!" I yelled out loud, trying to tell the people so they might hear my warning before it was too late for them so save themselves. "They slaughtered my mother and father in the street and took the children away. Tobolsk is gone and now they march for here!"

"Tobolsk?" said the priest and the cops stopped again at his words. "Did you know a man named Besarion Dzhugashvili?"

"He was my father," I nodded.

The priest nodded. "I know Besarion," he nodded. "He was a loyal comrade to the church. How is he been all these years?"

"I told you!" I screamed. "He is dead! My father, my mother, Tania, and everyone else in Tobolsk is **_DEAD_**! Gone, slaughtered, eaten, burned to ashes!"

I cried again, sobbing hot tears. "Please believe me," I begged the priest, not even trying to hold back my tears. "They're coming here, right now. But they are going around the long way because I destroyed the bridge. Comrade Father, they will kill all of you without mercy and then they are going to march on Moscow as soon as the storm has let up."

The priest was silent for then.

"Please…" I repeated. "Please believe me."

After a few minutes, he spoke again.

"Let him tell his story, Feliks," he said. "What is your name?"

"Pyotr Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili," I said.

"Then may all listen," said the priest as he turned to the frightened people cowering behind their cars on the street. "As Pyotr speaks his message."

The people nodded and began to stand up, slowly coming back out into the open. I was beginning to get a sense that religion was held very dearly in Soilkamsk, but the police did not un-cuff me. I stepped forwards towards the crowd of people and took a breath before I told my story.

"I am from Tobolsk, east of the mountains," I said to the crowd of people. "Around a month ago, an army of monsters rolled through my town and killed everyone there in a brutal massacre. All died, even the newborn baby boy of my mother's best friend. By some miracle, I was able to survive and run. And as I did, I managed to kill one of the monsters who was searching for me. I've tracked them through the Urals for the past three weeks or so, sniping their officers to slow their advance. But now they're coming here to avoid the snowstorm and they will kill all of you like they did to the people of Tobolsk. After the storm passes, they will march on Moscow for the Kremlin. They want war with us, Comrades. And they will take no prisoners. I've seen that first hand myself."

I finished and waited, watching the people for a reaction. Most of them were on the very verge of believing me, as I certainly looked the part. My clothes had become ratty and torn, my winter jacket was now a rag and my boots were just on the verge of splitting apart and allowing my feet to get frostbitten. My silver hair had grown out so that it fell into my eyes and I would have to wet it and comb it so I could see straight. I was hungry and thirsty after my run from the monsters and I had not allowed myself sleep since I had torched the monster's food supply. I was bleeding from about twenty different places on my arms and legs from the fall I took on the bridge. It was another miracle that I was still alive.

The priest stepped forwards towards me and looked me right in my eyes.

"What would you have us do, Pyotr?" he asked. "We cannot run from them because of the storm and we would die in the cold."

I looked at the people in front of me. They were scared, even if they didn't believe me. I turned and looked at Evanova, Larochka, and her husband Feliks. All three of them were scared, but I saw in each of their eyes a spark of resistance. They knew what they had to do, but they did not like it.

_The story of my life,_ I laughed to myself inside my head, remembering how many times I had to do things that might get me killed.

"Well then we will all die," I said as nonchalantly as I could.

The people murmured angrily at me, some calling me a defeatist and a coward.

"They will come here tonight and they will begin to kill us off," I shrugged, remembering what the monsters did to Tobolsk. "They will start with the policemen, most likely burning you or shooting you with arrows from long ranges. If they don't do that, then they will send their dogs to kill you like rats."

Feliks went white in the fact and his wife squeezed his hand tight.

"Next it will be the rest of the men," I continued. "They will drag you from your homes and into the streets where you will be made to fight and kill each other or fight one of them with your bare hands. It will be amusing for them, like a boxing match or a hockey game."

The men amongst the crowd stepped backwards.

"Then the One-Eyes and the Fiery Women will come forwards," I said. "They will take the women and the young boys and burn them…or _eat_ them."

Mothers clutched their children out of fear.

"And finally, the young girls will be dragged away to die separately," I finished. "I do not know what happens to them, but I did not see anyone being taken prisoner."

The entire group who was present looked at the ground. Hope was now gone from their eyes, just as I planned for it to happen. Hope was false and made you weak, but _anger_ made you fight. Anger was the fuel that had allowed me to survive the first week in the mountains until I had learned how to survive on my own. And now I needed to give these people the anger they needed to fight, just how Larochka was like an angry mother bear protecting Evanova. They needed to protect something, and that something was a thing every Russian held close in their hearts: the Motherland itself.

"And Comrades," I said as loud as I could. "If we allow this to happen, then we will go down in history as a town of fools! Moscow will burn along with the rest of Russia and we must not let this happen!"

The faces began to look up at me again, the eyes of the little children were filling with admiration and courage and the adults were following suit.

"We are the last line of defense!" I continued. "If Soilkamsk falls, then Russia falls with it. Will you let this happen, Comrades?"

A weak murmur of "nyet" went up through the crowd, people nodding in agreement with their friends.

"What will you do?" I yelled. "Will you roll over and die on your bellies like a coward in the face of the enemy?"

This time a roar tore through the people.

"Nyet!" they shouted.

"Will you beg with these devils for mercy?" I asked.

"Nyet!" this time it was louder.

"So what will you do?" I asked. "You will not leave, you will not die, and you will not beg. **_So what will you do_**_?_"

"MY BUDEM BOROT'SYA!" they yelled, shaking their fists at the air. _(We will fight!)_

They continued chanting "we will fight" as I felt the handcuffs fall away. I looked back to see Feliks stepping away from me, putting the handcuffs back onto his belt. Then Larochka stepped forwards and handed me the Dragunov.

"People of Soilkamsk!" the priest yelled, raising his arms to silence them. "Comrades, we must prepare for the coming battle. Someone go to the Town Hall and send a message to Moscow. Tell them that we will defend as long as we can, but we will need help. Bring the women and infants to the church for safety. All who can fight, report to the police station for a weapon if you do not already have one. Go now, and may god be with us all!"

He turned to me. "Come," he said, beckoning me to follow him.

"Where are we going, Comrade Father?" I asked.

"To the church," he said. "I have something to give you."

The walk to the church was an eventful one. People were running around, passing the message back and forth. Soilkamsk was about to be attacked and they were to prepare. People drove their cars to block roads, funneling the enemy to one part of town. Police trucks came by to pick up mothers and young children while the older one, boys and girls both, were sent to the police station for a weapon and training.

Finally, we reached the church at the center of the town. It was the tallest building in Soilkamsk and right away I saw it would be a perfect sniping position from up in the bell tower. I would be able to see the entire town and all that went on during the battle. The priest opened the door and ushered me in past the pews to his room at the back.

"There was a time when I was just like you," he said as he went to the back room.

"When was that, Father?" I asked.

"Many, many, years ago," he said as he began to rummage around in his storage closet. "Long before your father was born and Stalin governed Russia with his iron fist. It was a time of war and chaos in which even children were murdered by our enemy."

"The Great Patriotic War," I said right away. "You fought for the motherland?"

"Da," he said. "I was at Stalingrad when the Fascisti first attacked us." _(Fascists)_

"What was it like?" I asked.

"It was like I had sinned beyond forgiveness and was sent into hell," he said as he brought back a large leather-covered box. "I was fifteen years old when I started fighting. My house was bombed and my family scattered in the snow. I was dazed and confused as bullets flew, so I picked up a rifle from a dead Comrade and used it to kill. I fought on and on until we pushed them from the city two years after that day. From there, I followed the Red Army to Berlin on the Long March. There we killed more Germans and shed more blood on their streets. I remember that my Sergeant would always say that we were "taking the fight to their people…their land…their_ blood_." But no matter how many times he said that, it did not make killing feel any different."

He looked at me. "Do you feel sorry for those you've killed?" he asked.

"Nyet, they were not deserving of remorse," I said. "They are devils."

"And God wishes for us to kill them," he smiled. "The Germans did horrible things in war, but they were not devils. They were misled by their _Fuher_ into sinning. These creatures are not like them."

He set to box on the table. "I have kept these a long time," he sighed. "But now, you must use them."

I opened the box and stared at what lay inside. A long brown military coat and gray winter hat with a red badge on the front. Next to it were a pair of combat boots and sitting next to that was a very old-looking pistol. I picked up the pistol and turned it over in my hands, feeling how light it was in comparison to the weight of my Dragunov. It was the uniform and weapon of a Red Army soldier from the Great Patriotic War.

"Take them," said the pastor. "You need them more than I do. I killed many men while wearing that uniform and carrying that gun and it has not brought me any peace in keeping them. Take them, Pyotr. Use them and take the sin of killing men from them."

"Thank you for the gift, Father," I said, bowing my head in respect. "I will wear them with great pride."

He allowed me to change into my new clothes and even allowed me to clean myself up with his bathroom. I shaved the silver stubble off my face and used a razor borrowed from a neighbor to cut my hair away from my face and into a "crew" style. As I looked in the pastor's mirror, wearing the clothes of an old soldier while carrying the sniper rifle of a modern one, I felt a calming aura of peace settle over me. I looked like a real soldier now, no some lost boy who had survived on nothing but luck for four weeks. No, now I was truly a weapon of vengeance.

"It is a good fit," the pastor remarked as I came out of the bathroom. "How do they feel?"

"Like a second skin, Father," I said, amazed at the feeling of weightlessness but yet warmth in the fabric. "Thank you again for you gift."

"Blessed are those who give," he said as I rummaged around in my bag for the vodka I had stolen back from the monsters.

"This was made by my father," I said. "It is the last one he made. Comrade Father, would you share a drink with me before I go to battle?"

He nodded and pulled two glasses from the cupboard. I poured some in each glass and raised mine to his.

"To the motherland," he said and clinked his glass against mine.

"To the motherland," I agreed as we both threw back the vodka. "I have to go now and see what preparations are being made."

"Go," he nodded. "And may God be with you for this battle."

"The Battle of Soilkamsk," I thought aloud to myself. "This is how we shall be remembered, Father."

"The first battle of many more to come," he nodded as I left my sniper rifle hanging on the coat hook. "Good luck, Pyotr. You will need it."

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I stood in the captain's office at the Soilkamsk police station about ten minutes later, fiddling with the old Tokarev pistol the priest had given me. I had loaded it with a seven-shot magazine from a box that the captain kept in the closet at the back of his office. The words I had spoken to the priest still echoed in my head. "This is how we will be remembered." I was all too right in that.

"Comrades, fifty percent of the town's entrances have been blocked off," said the captain. I was not the only one there, as Feliks and some lieutenants stood before his desk, looking at the map of Soilkamsk. "Booby straps and signal flares have been set on the small roads behind the roadblocks in case they are breached."

"What about the main road, Comrade Captain?" Feliks asked.

"It's been turned into a funnel," he said, pointing at a pair of red lines drawn along the main road through Soilkamsk. "The enemy will pour into the town and have nowhere else to go. They will be trapped in the town square where we will pour fire down on them from above."

"Do you have any explosives?" I asked. "Grenades, rockets, anything that could kill a large formation with one shot."

"We are police officers," said Feliks. "Not soldiers. Why would we need explosives?"

"They attack fast and swift with large numbers in the opening wave," I said. "We will need to eliminate these numbers before they have a chance to get close and kill anyone."

"We do have a BTR," said an armored lieutenant. "But we've never used it."

"Put it here," I pointed in the square close to where I had spoken to the crowd. "Use it to provide suppression fire to our comrades in the street."

"Where will you be?" asked Feliks.

"I will snipe the officers from the bell tower," I said, pointing at the map's surface. "I will also be able to see the entire battlefield from there, so I can alert you to what troops are moving where."

"We have some fair shots here as well," said the captain. "What do we do with them?"

"Put them as rooftop shooters," I said. "Have them cover the small roads to the south and send a few men to back them up. We have to assume that the enemy will try to be tricky."

"Comrade Captain!" yelled a young officer as he ran into the room, dressed in his winter coat and boots, snow falling from his shoulders as he fell. There was an AK-74 assault rifle strapped across his back, which told me that he was one of the sentries guarding the building.

"Easy, easy, Comrade," Feliks said. "Catch your breath first."

The officer bent over and panted before he stood and pointed at the door. "Captain, there is someone who wishes to speak with you."

"Who is he?" asked the captain.

"He…didn't…say," the private panted. "He is…asking…to speak with…our leader, but…he said…"general."

"Then he's from the army," Feliks grimaced. "Pyotr, do you think you can kill him?"

"Where is he?" I asked.

"Right…outside…the building," the private panted. "He…got by…all our sentries."

"Then no," I said to Feliks. "I wouldn't be able to get a decent sniping position from a window here."

"Then we should talk with him," said the captain. "But if he threatens us, then we'll shoot him where he stands."

"Da, but who should speak with him?" said a lieutenant. "It might be a trap to speak with our CO just to kill him and disorient our men."

"Then I will talk to him," I said, picking up a pair of snow goggles. It had started to snow so I needed my eyes to be clear in order to shoot.

"Nyet, we will need you to shoot them from high up," said Feliks. "I will talk to the bastard."

"This isn't for you to decide," I said sternly. "I want to know who ordered my town burned and I will find out."

"Let him, Feliks," said the captain. "And if he does try to kill one of us, then it is his funeral."

"What if he asks for my name?" I said. "What should I tell him?"

The captain through for a second then smiled as if he had thought of something funny.

"Tell him your name is Pyotr Veliky!" he said.

We all laughed, as the word "veliky" meant "the great." It was also the formal title of one of the Czars; Pyotr Alexeyevich Romanov, or "Peter the Great," to the westerners. He had built one of our cities: St. Petersburg, later named Leningrad, and then back to St. Petersburg once the Soviet Union had broken up.

"I'll tell him that," I laughed as I turned and walked out of the captain's office.

I walked out of the office and towards the door, a group of guards armed with assault rifles following me. I nodded to them and pushed open the door to the street. Standing before me was a human, an old man with thinning gray hair. He was barefoot in the shin-deep snow and was dressed in a strange blue robe that looked far too thin for the cold of the Russian winter.

"You asked to see me?" I said.

"Yes," he said in a strangely strong voice.

"You look cold," I observed from my stance on the steps of the police station.

"No, I am fine," said the old man. "But your compassion is welcomed."

I nodded but did not loosen my stance. My right hand found its way around to my belt and to the Tokarev holstered there, resting on the strap of the holster. The stranger noticed and raised his eyebrows.

"That is a very strange uniform you wear," he said.

"It was given to me by a friend," I said. "Now why are you here in Soilkamsk?"

The man smiled, knowing now was the time for business. "My name is Minos," he said, stepping forwards and extending his hand.

The guards with me raised their rifles and I looked down at the hand as if it was covered with filth.

"Why are you here, Minos?" I asked.

"I have told you my name," he said, retracting his hand. "Will you tell me yours?"

"Pyotr Veliky," I said, trying not to grin. "Now answer my question."

"Very well," he said. "I am traveling with a caravan through your nation. I am the leader of my group and we have a problem. We are many and we are lost. We crossed the mountain a few days ago and wish to take shelter here from the snowstorm. But you have blocked off all the roads leading into this city so we can't get our wagons in. Mr. Veliky, would you tell your men to lift the roadblocks and allow my caravan and I to take shelter here in town for the night?"

I looked at him with horror as I drew my pistol and aimed it at him, realizing I had seen this man before. He looked surprised, but his smile did not waver.

"Excuse me, I do not know Russian customs," he said. "But now will you answer my question?"

"_You_…" I growled like a wolf as I stepped off the steps, still towering over him by a good foot or two. "It was _you."_

"Excuse me?" he asked. "Have we met somewhere before?"

"I saw you," I slammed my fist across his face and he fell to the ground, holding his nose. "One month ago, at Tobolsk. You ordered them to attack, to kill my family and my comrades. You're to blame for that massacre."

The old man suddenly grinned. "So you Russians are the drunken idiots that as she tells us you are," he said, wiping some blood from his nose. "I didn't think anyone had survived that night. But it looks like I was wrong. What did you do, run into the mountains and follow us here to warn us? And I bet it was you who burned our food two weeks ago, wasn't it?"

I kicked him and looked over my shoulder. "Men, restrain him!" I yelled. "He is their general! We must kill him now!"

The guards ran forwards and struck him across the face with their rifle butts. The old man did not cry in pain, but he just laughed. They dragged him against the wall of the police station by his hair, still kicking and hitting him as they dragged.

"Minos," I said, a few tears leaking from under my snow visor. "Why? Why attack my home? Why kill my family and my comrades? You had nothing to gain but blood and hatred. They were innocent people, Minos, good people. Why?"

"An army travels on its stomach," he said, not fazed by the beating the guards had given him. "And mine had to eat."

I was horrified, as were the guards. One of them actually doubled over and threw up in the snow. They…they _ate_ the bodies of my family…of Tania…of the baby from down the street. I tasted bile and fought back the urge to vomit as I drew the pistol the priest had given me.

"I hope the wolves enjoy your carcass," I said, putting the barrel of Tokarev to his head and cocking the hammer. "Assuming that there is anything left after I am done with you."

He grinned. "Not before they taste yours," he sneered.

Suddenly, he vanished, as if the earth had swallowed him up. The guards looked around wildly for him, sweeping the snow with their rifles.

"Don't bother," I told them. "It's magic. He's gone."

"But they will come now?" asked a private, clutching his rifle close to his chest.

"Da," I said. "And we must prepare."

"Comrade Veliky, we are ready," said the same man, the fear suddenly gone from his eyes. "I will avenge our comrades at Tobolsk."

"So will I," was the collective answer from the rest of them.

I smiled, not even fazed by the fact that my false name was becoming my real name among the men. Veliky…"the great." I suppose it had a nice ring to it. And I also suppose that Pyotr Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili had died back at Tobolsk with everyone bearing the name "Dzhugashvili," so now I was in need of a new name. Pyotr Veliky…it was a good name.

"Then go," I said to them. "Tell the captain I will be in the church bell tower with my rifle. They will be coming soon, Comrades. The battle is almost on us."

"Da, Comrade Veliky!" they all yelled and saluted like soldiers talking to their commanding officer.

I saluted back and walked off towards the church. When I entered, I did not see the priest, but I knew he was down in the basement with the mothers and young ones. I grabbed my rifle and made to go up the stairs but I paused at the alter and the large cross that stood there. I bowed my head to it and quickly crossed myself, saying a silent prayer to my family and all others who had died at the Tobolsk Massacre, as it was now known as. After that, I hefted the Dragunov and climbed the stairs into the bell tower. Snow and wind buffeted my face as I set up my shot on the roads that led into Soilkamsk. I couldn't see much, but I definitely could see the road.

The radio I had brought with me suddenly buzzed. "Pyotr, what's it look like from up there?" asked the captain.

I clicked the "talk button and brought the speaker to my face. "They are coming," I said. "I can't see them yet, but they are coming."

Almost as if on cue, a pair of signal flares shot up from the west side of town, illuminating the three squads of confused monsters who had tripped them when they climbed over the roadblock set up there.

"Comrades, engage the enemy!" I said as I fired three shots at the officers, dropping them in the snow.

As soon as the officers were dead, the soldiers stationed there fired, their assault rifles lighting up the black of night and swirling white flakes. Their rhythmic chatter split the silence of the night as well and I watched in the dying light of the flares as the monsters fell as the bullets chewed into them. Some tried to climb back over, but they were dead before they had both feet out of the snow.

"Left side, left side," said the captain over the radio. "Pyotr, third squad's in some trouble from a giant dog over by the fire department."

"I see it," I said as I tracked the monster as it ran towards the squad, the body of a policeman dangling from its mouth. I fired and struck it in the head with two bullets. The dog dropped to the snow without a sound.

"The dog is down," I said. "Third squad can move up and repel the attack."

"Otlichno!" said the captain. "Good shooting, Pyotr." _(Excellent)_

"Town square, town square!" yelled a lieutenant. "Most of the army is heading down the funnel, but the BTR's guns aren't loaded yet! Pyotr, do you think you can buy us some time?"

"Da," I said. "Have some men move forwards to clean up the squads when I'm done with the officers."

"Da, Comrade Veliky," he said. "Over, out."

I started picking the officers off one by one as the sweeper team moved forwards under my covering fire. A few seconds later, the large BTR-80 armored personnel carrier woke with a roar from its engine and moved through the town square, it's heavy machine gun spewing fire and bullets at the enemy. The sweeper teams advanced back up the street, pushing the monsters back as the BTR backed them up with its turret. The once-still night was now filled with the sounds of war and the dying screams of those who waged it. But I didn't really hear the loud blasts and chatters of assault rifles and shotguns from them or anywhere else on the battlefield, I just kept my mid focused on the killing…the _avenging_ my comrades.

Boom

A Fiery Woman toppled with a bullet lodged in her chest.

Boom

A One-Eye fell as I put one in his leg, severing the artery there, dying in less than thirty seconds.

Boom

A reptilian being with a pair of tails for legs screamed as I used the rest of the clip to destroy her body from the "knees" up.

I reloaded and kept firing down, providing cover or suppression fire whenever it was needed. The storm slowly began to die down with the night as it waned into early morning, the snow falling at a softer rate, but the storm of gunfire did not let up.

"Pyotr, are you there?" said the radio. It was the captain.

"Da, go ahead, Comrade Captain," I said as I tracked another dog and shot it.

"I've just gotten word to Moscow," he said. "The Red Army has sent a counterattack force to us; consisting of a tank battalion, six artillery divisions, a motor rifle and two mechanized divisions. Basically enough men and guns to fortify Soilkamsk against a further invasion. But before they get here, the Red Air Force is planning to carpet-bomb the fields where they're camped, as our rooftop scouts tell me. The enemy is sending more troops to us, but the jets will put a stop to that."

"How long until they get here?" I asked as I shot another monster who had tackled one of our men, saving his life.

He looked at the church and up at my position and raised his rifle in a triumphant manner. He wasn't a policeman; he was just a man like me who was fighting to save his country. I gave him a smile and a nod, even though I knew he wouldn't be able to see it as he turned and fired his gun again at the monsters.

"Ten minutes," he said. "We're going to make a massive push to get them out of the city. Will you join us?"

"Da," I said as I slung my rifle and opened the door to go back down. "I will join the BTR at the town's main road."

"Good," he said. "Over, out."

I ran down the stairs and into the church to see a Fiery Woman nosily slurping down the wine used in the ceremony.

"That is not yours," I said as I drew my pistol. "It is property of Comrade Father and Jesus Christ."

I quickly shot her in the forehead and dragged her body from the church to the sidewalk before I ran to join the BTR. I passed the broken and mauled bodies of the monsters, the snow of the street stained red with their blood, but to my great relief, I saw no Russians lying there next to them. Whatever losses we had sustained were light, which was a comforting realization to me. When I got there, the men all cheered as they saw me.

"VEL-I-KY!" they chanted, pumping their fists into the air. "VEL-I-KY, VEL-I-KY!"

As I walked around to the front of their formation, I grinned and raised my fist in triumph, feeling a little awkward to be standing before them wearing the old uniform of the Red Army in this modern war.

"Comrades, Moscow has just sent help!" I yelled, pushing those feelings aside for the moment. "The Red Air Force is going to bomb their camp in ten minutes and possibly kill them all. The pilots will have won the battle, and why should they have all the fun?"

The men cheered and waved their weapons in the sky.

"Push them back!" I yelled as I pointed down the street with my pistol at the monsters who cowered behind the cars parked on the sidewalks. "Push them back, Comrades! _For Russia!"_

_"For Russia!"_ was the collective cry from the men as we all surged forwards, shouting an old Red Army battle-cry: _"OORAH!"_

Like a steamroller, the men of Soilkamsk ran forwards and crushed the monsters who still lived. Most screamed and tried to run, only to be cut down by the storm of gunfire that flashed from the barrels of their weapons. I fired two shots at the monsters with my Tokarev, but I was really running with the men because they needed me. I was their symbol, their equivalent of Zhukov at Stalingrad in 1941. I was now Veliky at Soilkamsk in 2013.

As we reached the edge of town, we all stopped and just poured gunfire at the swarm of retreating monsters. The BTR thundered, blowing snow banks to powder and throwing the monsters who cowered behind them high into the air. I raised my pistol and fired three shots at one as it fell back to earth, hitting it in the stomach with the third shot.

"Pull!" I joked as I reloaded the pistol. "How are our ammunition reserves?"

"We are conserving ammunition, Comrade Veliky," said a private. "We should have enough to last us until the bombers get here."

"Da, but they will miss their targets," I said, pointing at the ditch that the monsters had taken shelter in. "We will have to push them back further for them to be inside the bombing radius."

"Shall I give an order to overrun their position?" asked the private.

"Nyet, I will do it myself," I said, cocking the Tokarev and handed him my hat. "Cover me while I get inside that ditch. Once I am in, have the men follow me up."

"Da, Comrade Veliky!" he saluted as he shouted an order to cover me.

I drew my hunting knife and inhaled, relishing the scent of the crisp snowy air as it filled my lungs. I set my jaw and stared out at the enemy's position. Small jets of flame, spears, and primitive arrows sailed from inside as the shooters blindly fired from over the top as they tried to hit us. I grinned and charged forwards through the snow. I made it to the edge of the trench and jumped right in, landing on one of the Two-Tailed ones and caving its skull in with my boots.

"You invade my country," I said as I fired a shot into a One-Eye's chest.

"You kill my family in the streets for fun and eat their bodies," I spun and ran my knife through a Fiery Woman's gut.

"You burn my home and come here, to do the same to these people," I wrapped my arm around the neck of another Two-Tail and bent it backwards and up, breaking its neck.

"So I hunt you," I said, walking through the rest of the trench, shooting and stabbing all who tried to challenge me. "I hunt you like the rats you are. I will kill all of you for what you have done to my country."

The monsters screamed as if I was a demon and scrambled to get out of the trench. I laughed and watched as they were cut down by the men who followed behind me, shooting them in the backs as they ran. I grabbed a Fiery Woman as she tried to climb up by her hair and dragged her from the trench. I turned to Soilkamsk and the people behind me in the trench and the ones by the BTR.

"_THEY WILL BLEED FOR THIS, COMRADES!" _I yelled as I hauled the monster to her bronze-and-donkey feet. _"WE WILL HUNT THEM LIKE RATS, WE WILL BURN THEIR HOMES AND KILL WHO THEY LOVE! WE WILL TAKE THE FIGHT TO THEIR PEOPLE…THEIR LAND…THEIR_ **BLOOD**!_"_

I stabbed the Fiery Woman through the back and cut her spine cleanly, watching her blood land on the snow in red droplets. The men yelled and surged forwards, trampling the body as they chased the monsters from the boundaries of Soilkamsk. I holstered my pistol and raised my hand, preparing to order the men to halt and let the bombs take out the enemy.

"Death to them!" yelled one of them men as he ran forwards and fired more bullets at them. "Kill them all!"

"No, Comrade!" I yelled as I tackled him to the snow. "If we go any further, then we will be within range of the bomb! We must fall back now before the jets arrive!"

I got to my feet and helped the soldier up, my freakishly tall form helping me in regaining command of him. "More of them will die," I said to him. "I promise you that, Comrade. But not here, not now."

"Fall back!" yelled Feliks from the BTR's turret. "Everyone, fall back to the city!"

"Look!" yelled a boy younger than me as he pointed across the field. "There's a man running!"

I looked at where he was pointing and snarled.

"Minos," I growled before I shouted as loud as I could. "**MINOS!**"

The old man turned to me from across the snowy ground. I saw fear in his eyes, true fear. I dropped my rifle off my shoulder and ran forwards through the snow at the enemy commander, bloody hunting knife gripped tightly in my hand. I had killed all but one of their officers, and Minos was the only one left to die. He turned and stumbled through the snow, making good speed for such an old man. But I was younger, taller, faster, and stronger, so I closed in on him rapidly.

"There is no escape for you!" I yelled as I chased him. "You will pay for what you did to those people!"

He screamed and started yelling something at the ground in a foreign language, something that sounded like a prayer. Maybe he was asking the Devil to help him escape me. And if he was, I had a feeling that not even the Devil himself would want to get in my way right now.

"I've hunted you long enough," I said as we neared the tree line. "Now, I will take your life! You should never have crossed into my home, Minos! Here in the mountains, the plains, the forest, _I _am _king_!"

I grabbed him by the back of his robe and threw him to the ground. I stamped repeatedly on his chest and stomach, making him scream and cough blood from his lips. Once I was sure he would not be able to move, I ripped off my ski goggles and threw my head back at the sky. I let loose a sound that I'm not sure what to call. It was half scream, half wolf howl. But the howl part was one of loss, of mourning. I missed my mother, I missed my father, and I missed Tania and all my friends. They had died because of this man and now I was going to see him punished. I knelt with my legs on either side of his chest and raised my knife high above my head, like how I had done to the monster at Tobolsk all those months ago.

"Here," I said, looking around at the snow and trees. "Here, I am a Tsar, a king, a hunter of men. You took everything from me but my life, so I will take everything from you."

I put my head right above his and looked him straight in the eyes. "_Absolutely_, everything."

"P-p-please," he begged. "Have mercy, Veliky!"

"You have the nerve to ask for mercy?" I snarled and got up to kick him again. "Mercy, from _me?_ You showed no mercy that night in Tobolsk, Minos. And should you have won here, you would have done the same thing to Soilkamsk."

"But you call yourself a king," he said, rolling onto his side to show me the sneer on his lips. "And a wise king must be merciful to his subjects and his contoured enemies. I surrender to you, and I expect you will treat me with honor."

"You want honor?" I spat on him and sheathed my knife. "Fine, then I will give you an honorable death."

I dragged him to his feet by his hair and punched him hard in the jaw. He whimpered and fell down into the snow.

"Pyotr, what are you doing?" asked Feliks as he and a group of men ran up from behind me. "Kill him already!"

"He wishes an honorable death," I said, realizing that I was talking like a king and corrected myself. "So I am allowing him to fight for his life."

I looked at Minos on the ground. "Get up," I said, drawing my pistol. "If you do not get up in three seconds, I will shoot you like the sick dog you are."

He got shakily to his feet and put his fists up. I moved faster than I thought I could, and clubbed him in the side of his head with the pistol's grip. His skull made a wet splat-like sound and he fell to his knees.

"M-m-mercy…" he begged from the ground.

"_Dog_," I spat on him again. "_Coward_. You hid behind your soldiers at Tobolsk until you knew you could live through the battle and you did the same thing here. You are a coward, Minos. You are no soldier."

"If you spare my life," he whimpered, "I'll tell you where I came from, and who sent me here. Just don't kill me, please!"

"Where?" I asked as the men and women of Soilkamsk assembled in a circle around us, like a boxing ring. "Where did you come from?"

"Greece," he said. "We came from the island of Crete."

Everything fell silent. He had come from Greece with this army from hell? How is that possible? And even if it was possible, sending an invasion was surely something that meant a war was on the horizon. I was unsure of what to do now, so I looked around at the people for help, silently begging them to advise me what to do. Suddenly, I saw a young girl squirm through the crowd and over to me. It was Evanova.

"Is he the man who killed your family?" she asked in a cute little-girl voice as she pointed a finger at Minos.

I nodded.

"Then you kill him, Pyotr," she said, drawing my knife and putting it in my hand. "He would have killed mama and daddy if you hadn't come. I don't want him to do that to anyone else."

"Kill him, Veliky!" yelled that hotheaded man who had tried to chase the enemy back to their camp. "Kill him and avenge our comrades at Tobolsk!"

"_Death_!" the townspeople began to chant. "_Death, death, death, death, death!"_

I grabbed Minos by his throat and hauled him to his feet before lifting him all the way off the ground. He choked out a weak plea, asking me to uphold my promise to let him live, but I gave him a look that told him I had made no such promise to him. He panicked and clawed at my wrist to make me let go, but I only squeezed tighter. I spun my knife from a slashing position to a forward stabbing one in my hand. The chant got louder as more people joined in.

_"DEATH, DEATH, DEATH, DEATH, DEATH, DEATH, DEATH, DEATH!"_

I brought my arm back to stab him through his heart as the chanting began get faster, the words I heard blurring together.

_"DEATHDEATHDEATHDEATHDEATHDEATH!"_

I howled again and thrust my arm forwards, burying the knife in his chest. The chanting stopped as I felt his blood run down the knife and onto my arm, dripping off and into the deep snow. All was silent as Minos gurgled, his lungs filling with his blood and drowning him before his heart could even slow down to death. His head went slack in my grip and rolled to the side, a river of blood dripping out over his lips. His pulse faded beneath my fingers and I dropped him to the ground, his dead eyes staring out across at his old camp far across the field. I was actually surprised when I saw how far I had chased the old man from his camp.

A jet screamed overhead as the carpet-bombing began. Bombers and attack jets filled the air like insects and circled the camp. I watched as the attack jets dove down to strafe the camp with their missiles and cannons, the sound of their weapons explosive boom echoing all across the battlefield. The camp started to burn as the bombers circled high above it, like hawks ready to dive on a mouse. Their bombs began to fall down like the snow, landing on the camp and sending a tremor through the ground. The explosions of the bombs were much louder than the missiles and made me wince when they were dropping. Larochka covered Evanova's ears to protect her as Feliks hugged them both. Finally, after maybe five minutes, the bombs stopped. We all looked up to see the camp was ablaze and the jets were turning around.

"The Red Army should be right behind them," the captain told me as he walked up, spitting on Minos's corpse.

"What?" I asked, since my ears were ringing.

"The army is coming," he said louder. "We've won!"

Everyone present cheered loudly, throwing up their hats and some of them fired their guns into the air. The captain handed me back my Dragunov and smiled.

"Everyone!" he said. "Comrade Veliky has saved us! He us a hero, Comrades!"

More cheers from the people as they surged forwards. I felt them pick me up and haul me onto their shoulders, laughing and cheering. I felt someone tap me on the shoulder and looked to see Evanova smiling at me in Feliks's arms. I grabbed her and hoisted her up onto my shoulder, earning a fit of giggles from her. I pumped my free arm in the air.

"If the Greeks want a war," I shouted. "Then by god, they'll get a war! One that they'll never forget!"

Over the cheering and the celebrating, I looked up at the now-clear blue sky. I smiled, knowing that mother, father, and Tania were all watching me. They had always been watching me as I had hunted the monsters, stealing back father's vodka, and maybe Tania had asked the wolves from heaven to protect me as I ran to Soilkamsk. They had always been watching me.

And I know that I had just made them very proud of me

**OKAY, SO HOW'D I DO? REVIEW OR PM ME WITH YOUR OPINION OR AT LEAST, AN OC CHARACTER XD! THE NEXT CHAPTER SHOULD BE UP SOMETIME NEXT MONTH SINCE MY BIRTHDAY IS COMING UP NEXT WEEK AND I USUALLY WRITE MOST OF THIS STORY AT SCHOOL. AND REMEMBER, ANYONE CAN REVIEW! YOU CAN REVIEW AS A GUEST, AN AUTHOR, OR EVEN AS ONE OF THE CHARACTERS, I REALLY DON'T CARE! ME NEED CHARACTERS, SO GIVE 'EM TO ME!**

**-MickDunD**


	7. Spies And Bombers

Chapter 7: Spies and Bombers

**PRIVIET, COMRADES! SORRY THIS IS LATE, BUT I JUST HAD NO TIME TO WORK ON THE STORY. I JUST TURNED SIXTEEN YEARS OLD, WO-HOOO! AND I'VE BEEN PLAYING AROUND WITH MY GIFTS. BUT I'M BACK AND NOW I HAVE A VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE NOW: WHILE THIS IS OFFICIALLY A "T" RATED STORY, THE CONTENT OF VIOLENCE, BLOOD, AND PROFANE LANGUAGE FROM THE RUSSIANS AS WELL AS SOME CERTAIN DEMIGODS MAKES THIS AN "M" RATED STORY, LIKE THE FIRST ****_DIE HARD _****MOVIE. AND FOR ALL YOU PERVERTS OUT THERE, I AM SORRY BUT THERE WILL BE ****_NO LEMONS_**** IN THIS STORY. **

**SO IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH FOR THOSE KINDS OF THINGS, THEN CERTAIN PARTS OF THIS STORY ARE NOT FOR YOU. **

**I STILL NEED OC CHARACTERS, SO IF YOU ALL WOULDN'T MIND SUBMITTING A FEW HERE AND THERE WITH YOUR REVIEWS…PLEASE?**

**A MESSAGE OUT TO WOLFGIRL 1221: HEEEERE'S DEVIN!**

**NOW ENJOY THIS LATEST CHAPTER OF THE EPIC STRUGGLE BETWEEN THE FORCES OF RED AND BLUE, GOOD AND EVIL, DEMOCRACY AND COMMUNISM, CHEESECAKE AND DIETING!**

**READ AND REVIEW!**

(KGB Colonel Klementi Ivan'ch Suvorov, AKA Richard Sorge)

(New York City, Wall Street)

"Good morning Misha," I said as I entered the office of my charge.

"Good morning to you too, Klementi," said the old spy. "How goes the plan?"

"Not so good, I'm afraid," I said as I sat down in the chair across from his desk. "It appears we have run into a problem."

"Oh, and what would that be?" asked CARDINAL as he pulled out a cigarette from his case and lit it, the unfiltered smoke trailing through the room. "Would you like one?"

"No thank you," I smiled as I watched him start smoking. "You know those are no good for your health, Misha."

"Klementi Ivan'ch, I am an old man," he laughed as he pulled the cigarette from his lips. "My time will come when I am ready and until then I will enjoy life and all it offers. Now…"

He leaned back in his chair and looked me in the eye. "Why is the capitalist not dead yet?" he asked.

"Her security is too tight," I said, trying not to cough on the smoke. "There is no way short of shooting her that I can remove her."

"Then just take your shot," he said as he puffed again on his cigarette.

"Then the police would be all over it," I said. "It has to look like an accident. If we directly kill her or any of her security force, then we stand the risk of getting exposed."

He sighed. "Klementi, do you understand the importance of this business deal?" he asked.

"It is a lot of money," I shrugged. As a "bodyguard," I didn't need to involve myself with the economic world of my "employer."

"Billions of dollars, Klementi," he said, sitting up in his chair and putting his elbows on his desk. "_Billions_. If we can make this transaction, then the Politburo can use that money to rebuild the Russian economy to increase our trade with other nations, strengthen our armed forces for defending the motherland against another attack from the Greeks, or improve the lives of our children. But without that money, none of it is possible."

"I understand that, Misha," I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "And believe me, I want nothing more than to make lives better. But it is impossible without jeopardizing our entire operation here in New York!"

"Have you tried everything?" he asked. "You _are_ trained in the assassination arts, Klementi. Think! What have you tried so far and how has it not worked?"

"I've tried poisoning her," I said. "She's so well guarded that was the only shot I had for eliminating her. I did manage to slip a good dosage of Ethylene Glycol into her food that night at the fundraiser two weeks ago."

"How did she survive that?" he asked, clearly surprised.

Ethylene Glycol was one of the deadliest poisons in the world, up there with cyanide and arsenic. And the dosage I had planned to give her was large enough to kill two elephants within five minutes! But ethylene glycol, unlike those toxins, had an edge. It was untraceable in an autopsy and would force the police to play hunches instead of hard evidence to find her killer. Unfortunately for me, this American was very…picky, when it came to her food and drink.

"She said she didn't like the smell of it!" I said. "She sent it back to the kitchen and I didn't have any more to put in her next order."

"Hmm," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Then I managed to intercept an order of very expensive sponge cakes she had ordered four days later," I said. "I filled them with two pounds of volcanic ash I bought from a school website and sent them back to her."

While it was a little off the books, fine-grained volcanic ash can be a fairly decent assassination weapon. If it is inhaled or ingested, it solidifies into cement inside the throat, causing severe and quick choking.

"And how did she survive that?" Misha asked.

"Apparently," I sighed, "she feeds her little dog very well."

Misha made a surprised gasp before he started laughing so hard he dropped his cigarette on his desk. After a few seconds later I started laughing with him. It _was_ kind of funny, in a sense of failure.

"So we are dealing with Rasputin himself, then?" Misha asked once we were mature adults again.

"It seems so," I sighed. "After she found her dog dead on the floor with a block of cement in his throat, she's started to get even more cautious with her food. We cannot try another poison attempt on her."

"Then what can you do?" Misha asked.

"A bomb," I said, leaning back in my chair, "leaves no traces. If the device is the right kind and it is planted in the right place at the right time, will remove her without it being traceable back to us and the motherland."

"Then for god's sake, do it!" CARDINAL said.

"Yes, but that's the problem," I said. "We do not have a device like that in our hands, Misha. And I do not have the knowledge of how to make one. So without the device, our plans are at a standstill."

We sat there in uncomfortable silence while I formulated a list of ways to get a device like that in my head.

"How is the rest of the plan?" I asked. "The business deal has been already set, correct?"

"Da, but the woman's life is the only thing that is holding us back," he sighed and stubbed out his cigarette, much to my relief. "Her father's wealth is tied to her life, pouring eighty percent of his wealth into her purse for her to waste on luxury items while a mere twenty percent goes through us. If she dies, then he will pour all of his money into our pockets instead."

"It is a major "if" at this point, Misha," I sighed. "But that "if" can become a "when" as long as we acquire a device that can perform that function."

"So we need a clean bomb?" Misha said. "Conveniently, during my last days in the GRU, I worked a case which involved two men who had the skills that would be needed to build a bomb like that."

"Who are they?" I perked.

"You are not going to like it," he said. "But they are young, brilliant men who can be bought for a price."

"I think that I like that," I mused. "Are they combat proficient?"

"Not that I am aware of," he sighed. "Their jobs were to build the bomb for the men who wanted to blow up part of the Kremlin."

I swallowed, knowing the name of the men who he spoke of. But when he worked with them, they were on opposite sides of the battle line.

"The Chernovs…"I whispered.

Misha nodded. "I know that Ivan will talk to Yuri in exchange for his younger brother out of prison."

"But…but…" I sputtered. "They're _terrorists_! You want me to work with a pair of bombers from Chechnya after they built a device that was intended to _kill_ the president as he sat at his desk!"

"Think, Klementi!" Misha said, slamming his hand down on the table. "Who can we get over here that will be able to build a device to your specifications that will _not_ send up a huge flare on our enemies' radar? No one, that's why having two children build it is the only way!"

I sighed, knowing I was beaten.

"You're sure that Ivan will negotiate with us?" I asked. "You worked the case that put him and his brother behind bars, after all."

"He never saw me," Misha shrugged. "And that was a long time ago, I was a different man."

"And what about the brother?" I asked. "Will he go along with it?"

"If Ivan tells him to, then yes," Misha shrugged. "But there is only one thing I am uncomfortable with."

"What is that?" I asked.

"Why do both brothers have the same name?" he asked.

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(Devin Longhart, Son of Thantos)

(Camp Half Blood, New York)

(Earlier that day…)

Fucking insanity, that's what it was.

By the time Annabeth, Natalie, Percy, Leo, and Clarisse got back from Mexico, the camp was disintegrating into a sea of chaotic insanity. The Russians apparently had stolen back their super-nuke, which they wanted to launch at the home of our parents (which also was a short drive away from where I was standing at Thalia's Pine and thus put us well inside the blast radius), they had a battlecruiser warship on the high seas that blew apart one of the sturdiest things the Hephaestus kids had ever built, re-killing the crew of the _Indianapolis _and given Annabeth a concussion, and now there was news from a town in Siberia where a seventeen year-old sniper had survived a month in the woods and managed to kill the officers of a Greek terrorist army and he might be out for blood.

"Unbelievable," I muttered as I sat down in the grass, careful not to wake the guard dragon there. "Just fucking unbelievable."

So many people had died in Siberia, and I knew it. I could feel it in my bones. Being the son of death has a major downside: you can tell who died and what happened to them. I closed my eyes and reached out to the old man in the New York City Hospital, whose heart was finally stopping from so many strokes and heart attacks.

_"Peace,"_ I told his soul as it gently left his body and began the journey to Hades.

I opened my eyes when I felt the soul drop off my "radar," so to speak, and exhaled. The old man had had a peaceful death, one without agony. He had not suffered, unlike the hundreds of innocent Russians who had died in Siberia a month ago.

I had felt their souls pass overhead a few nights ago as they made it to the US and began the trek down to Hades. I felt so much sorrow for them, as they hadn't been buried at all. Many of their bodies had been eaten and none of them had a coin to pay Charon and to use the ferry to go over to the land of the dead. They were all dammed to wander the banks of the Styx forever, or until someone gave them a decent burial. And even though we were at war with the Russians, even though they had bombed New Rome to rubble and shot at us…I still felt sorry for them.

I sighed and ran my hands over my face, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Oh well…there was nothing I could do to soothe the souls of those who already died, only the ones who were on the brink of it. I could reap wicked souls like my father, but that was a gift that I preferred not to use on anyone.

"Agenda for today?" I asked myself as I pulled my camp schedule from my jeans pocket. Thanks to the magic that the tree still had, Camp was still warm even on January First.

I looked at the paper and my face flushed. It wasn't my schedule, it was my secret photo of Clarisse! Then that means my schedule was locked away in my cabin with my rifle!

"Oh, gods," I blushed as I folded the picture away. "Please tell me no one saw that."

No one was up this early, so I guess my secret was safe. Yeah, I know that Clarisse was already going out with Chris Rodriquez and that they were both pretty happy. But still…I had a crush on her, a _huge_ crush. There was just something about her that made me light up. Sure, she called me "death boy" just like she called Nico Di Angelo the same thing. But I never took it as an insult.

"Okay, enough daydreaming," I said, rubbing my eyes as I tried to recall my Sunday schedule. "First off…archery."

Archery to me was the same thing as the rifle range. I was not good with a bow and arrow and also equally horrible with a sword. But Chiron said he had never seen a better shot in his life when I used my rifle on the archery range.

Yeah, I know it's untraditional for a demigod to use a modern weapon, but I come from a long line of soldiers so using a firearm was a standing family tradition that went way back to World War One. So screw Olympian tradition because it was the least I could do to honor my mother.

I got up and walked down to my cabin to get my rifle. I'm the only kid in Thantos Cabin, so I got free reign over the design. I picked the color to be black, not like the hopeless black color of Hades Cabin, but more like a peaceful black. The windows were the same kind I remember my mom's apartment had, so I had the Athena kids put them in as a reminder of her and life before the Camp. The doorway was shaped into a tunnel with the door handle made out of a shiny diamond.

Yeah, yeah, I know the whole "light at the end of the tunnel" cliché. I just wanted people to know that death wasn't always violent and painful. Sometimes it was a gateway to a better place. Or at least I hope it was….

The inside of the cabin was pretty clean, I mean, I was the only one here to make it messy. The walls were bare except for my mother's memorial service plaque that hung above my dresser. Next to it was my rifle bag which always sat on its little alcove unless I needed to take it somewhere. I had a few books on gun care and a military code handbook that mom had used. I guess the few things I had in here reminded me about her. And that's because I never wanted to forget her.

My mother had been Major Samantha Josephine Longhart of the United States Marine Corps Special Operations Division. She spent her entire service career doing the CIA's dirty work for them, which meant taking lives nearly every month on some gods-forsaken country whose people hated Americans. She had been damn good at her job, which meant the CIA wanted to use her as one of their own Black Op agents. But she was smart and refused her requests for transfer to their International Covert Operations Division, because she knew that if something fucks up on a mission, whether you did it or not, the Marines will come get you and bring you home safe. The CIA, on the other hand, will just burn you from the books and pretend you never existed, letting you get captured and tortured for information.

My dad met her at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial service held in D.C. My grandpa had gone MIA in 'Nam, which meant he was dead by this time, so mom came out to honor his memory. Apparently, dad was impressed by her respect for death and those who had died for something they believed in. She, on the other hand, thought dad was just cute. After maybe…five to eight years of dating, they got engaged and had me.

Thantos had never really had kids before, so he kind of shirked his duties as Death to help out. Whenever mom's job called her, he would stay home with me. I remember once Hades got so pissed off about nobody dying that he sent all three Furies to kill me. Mom came home just in time to see dad when he turned them into dust. She told me I wouldn't stop laughing at that.

Then everything went FUBAR. One day, mom didn't come home from an Op like she was supposed to. I was only five years old at the time, so when the officer from the Central Intelligence Agency pulled up to my house and dad wasn't there, I got scared. The officer told me that my mother had never existed. He took the photos of her that we had around the house, even the ones with dad in them, and replaced them all with copies of a woman I didn't know. I asked why, but he just said it was "classified."

Next thing I know, I'm seeing red and screaming at him to tell me where my mother was. The man tried to lock me in my room, but managed to grab a part of his head as I tried to scratch out his eyes. All the sudden, there is a flash of light from the man's eyes and he's laying the floor without a pulse. The room starts to fade for me and I pass out.

When I come to, I'm in the hospital in intensive care. They tell me that the officer had some kind of heart attack that killed him. Again, I ask for my mother, and again all I hear is "classified." I didn't get angry this time, I just cried because I knew what had happened to her.

Mom was..._dead_…dad was gone. And I had no one.

I spent the rest of my life in foster care until I was around twelve. That's when the monsters started to attack, but all I had to do was touch them and they died. The foster family I had lived with had just been a bunch of hippies, who had rejected everything modern on an overly cliché way. I had even gotten beaten up by my step-sister/brother (I couldn't tell if she had boobs or just really huge pecs) because a member of my family had served in Vietnam. The funny this was that she had tried to punch me, I grabbed her wrist and she got a heart attack. I calmed down enough for her to live through it just in time, but the rest of the time I spent there, I just had to take my licks from whoever gave them. I didn't want anyone else to die.

I got better at controlling that power until I didn't need to wear gloves around the house anymore. I ran away after that with a Satyr who had found me at school and I lived all year round at Camp Half-Blood for the last four years. I hadn't seen my father since mom was alive and I hadn't seen the foster family either. Them, I didn't care shit about. Him, I would give anything to "talk" to him, face-to-fist for abandoning my mother and not saving her life.

I shook those memories out of my head and unzipped my rifle bag. I needed to clear my head, and blowing up a target always helped. I looked in my mirror and pushed my black hair out of my eyes. I knew that Nico and I looked way too much alike. We both had that same dark Italian skin, black hair, and dark eyes. I'm just glad that no one confused us for twins, since Nico's sister Bianca was a sore subject for him.

I quickly cleaned and assembled the M16A1 assault rifle and fitted it with the ACOG scope I always used for target practice. I was about to sling the weapon over my shoulders and kicked off my shoes, shorts, and camp shirt. I never like the color of the things, so I pulled on a fog-camouflage army shirt, a pair of long cargo Marines combat pants, and laced up my combat boots. Then I slung my weapon and double-timed it out to the range. I got there just as the sun had just started to peak over the horizon. I grinned, knowing that the low light would make it a challenge for me to hit the bulls-eye, and I loved challenges. I loaded the rifle and aimed down through the scope at the first target.

I centered the bulls-eye in the crosshairs of the scope and squeezed off a two-round burst. The red center of the target vanished as the rounds chewed it to shreds. I smiled, not even hearing the loud gunshots that rolled across the valley. To my right, I saw one of the Drew Tanaka stumble out of the Aphrodite cabin with her hair full of curlers and her eyes dripping black mascara.

"Devin, it's five in the morning!" she shouted from the cabin porch.

"I have do have a watch," I said as I fired again, this time only letting off one shot. "And last time I checked, it was working right. But thanks anyway for the update, Drew."

She started walking forwards, so I just stood up so I towered over her. Usually when facing the son of death himself, the rational thing to do is to shrink away. But apparently, I had pushed Drew _way_ past being rational.

"Every Sunday, you come out here and pull this shit," she said, jabbing a finger into my chest so her sharp fingernail slightly pricked me through my shirt. "_Every_ single Sunday since you got to camp, you come out here at the crack of dawn and wake us all up like we're under attack. Maybe you don't get the fact that normal people need to sleep, hon?"

"Don't call me hon," I said, coldly. "We're at war, Drew….a real, modern war with an ex-world/nuclear superpower that has just made a comeback. Maybe you don't get the fact that you can't charmspeak the entire Russian Army into worshipping you and your siblings. You try to pull that kind of crap with me or another camper over who gets the shower, that's one thing and you might get away with it. But if you do it to a soldier who would like nothing more than to take your life, it'll get you killed."

I got into her face. "The Russians will fuck…you…over," I said, jabbing my finger into her chest with every word. "They don't follow the same rules that we do, so either step up to their rules or step down and fucking leave me alone."

"Oooo, look at mister big-shot soldier!" she said in sarcastic awe. "Look here, death boy MMMPH!"

I stepped backwards and jammed the barrel of the M16A1 into her big mouth to get her to shut the fuck up before she tried charmspeaking.

"Ya hear that?" I said, cocking my head to the wind. "I think that's the sound of no one caring!"

Drew spit the barrel out and wiped her mouth, ruining her makeup and lipstick. "That's gross!" she moaned like she had been beaten up. "Now I've got death germs."

I raised the gun and aimed at her face. "You know I'll do it if I'm pushed too far," I said softly, yet firmly. "Close your mouth, turn around, and go back to bed before I count to ten."

"What?" she said. "Are you threatening me?"

"One," I said slowly. "Two…"

She turned around and ran back to the Aphrodite cabin. I smirked at my victory and turned back to the range, but found myself looking into a pair of brown eyes.

"Nice talking," she said.

"Thanks, Clarisse," I said. "Uh, did I wake you?"

"With the shooting?" she asked, stepping back so I could see her face. "Nah, I was already awake. But I think the rest of Camp is going to be pretty pissed at you, Devin."

"I'm used to it by now," I said, sheepishly rubbing the back of my head. "All I've got to do is hide from them."

She laughed loudly, not caring who she woke up.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked as we started walking back to my cabin.

"Sure," I said, not believing that I was actually talking to her and not babbling like an idiot like I usually did.

"Why do you do this every Sunday?" she asked.

"It's a little personal," I said, shying away ever so slightly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to pry."

I was a little surprised. Clarisse was usually a very headstrong and abrasive person, not usually caring about the boundaries of people's privacy. I wonder if it had anything to do with how her super-aggressive tactics on that supertanker nearly allowed her, Percy, Natalie, and Leo to be blown to bits. But since she was acting differently, I thought maybe I could tell her.

"I found out that my mom had died on a Sunday," I said. "So I like to fire a twenty-one gun salute to her every Sunday."

She nodded admirably. "That's a good way to remember her," she smiled and looked at her watch. "Well, I've got to wake my brothers up."

"Okay," I said. "So I guess I'll see you later?"

She smiled. "Maybe," she said as she turned around and walked back to Ares Cabin, casually pointing down-range at the targets. "Oh, nice shot by the way."

I shifted the rifle into a more…let's call it "kick-ass" position and managed to throw a smile at her. "Thanks," I said under my breath as she walked inside.

I exhaled and let my head roll back. Gods, if she wasn't seeing Chris then I would…well, even I'm not sure what I would do right away.

I looked at the range and frowned. I didn't feel like any more target practice for now, but I still needed to fire eighteen more shots to honor mom. I shrugged, and then heard someone shout from Aphrodite Cabin.

"Drew, you can't just yank people out of the shower!"

I sighed. Drew would bitch about it for weeks if I told her to stop doing things that interrupted me on Sunday morning the way Piper did. It annoyed the entire camp, because we could all hear it and we all heard it every single day! So maybe this time I wouldn't ask.

I grinned as knelt down again and raised the rifle. Through the scope, I could see Piper and Drew arguing through the window. Drew had a towel around her head and I'm pretty sure (and desperately hope) that she had another towel around her body. Lacy was sitting on her bed with Mitchell next to her as he tried to get her to stop crying. She was soaking wet and was wearing another towel, proving that Drew had just thrown her out of the bathroom…again.

_Don't move,_ I thought as I centered the crosshairs on Drew's towel turban. _For your sake, that is._

I flicked the safety to "full auto" and fired, shattering the window. Through the scope, I saw Drew's towel fly off her head as the bullets struck. The entire Aphrodite cabin, even the boy, screamed and hit the deck as the wall behind where Drew had been standing filled with eighteen holes, completing the twenty-one gun salute.

I knew that I still had some leftover ammo in the clip, so I decided to teach Drew another less: don't annoy me when I'm honoring my mother's memory on Sunday. I flicked the safety to a single-round burst and stood up. I waited until Drew was getting back up when I shot a small mirror off the windowsill ledge. She screamed and took cover again as I walked forwards, casually firing a round here and there as I walked forwards like John Fucking McClane from a _Die Hard_ movie. Soon, I was out of ammunition and I was at the cabin door. I slung the rifle and lightly knocked on the door. It opened and Natalie answered, the only Aphrodite girl who I didn't want to meet in a dark alley. She was fine with my shooting, since she was somehow able to sleep through it.

"Morning Devin," she yawned. "Sup?"

"Could you tell Drew to keep it down?" I asked. "I'm trying to shoot out here."

"Will do," she said as she rubbed her eyes.

As she raised her arms to stretch, her pajama sleeves fell down a little and I saw a little patch of red on her right bicep. She noticed and quickly finished stretching and smiled at me.

"Okay, see ya," she said as she closed the door and started yelling at Drew.

I waited a few seconds to see where the conversation turned.

"Okay, yeah, I'm gonna get it good for this one," I shrugged as I heard someone scream that I had shot an expensive makeup kit.

As I turned around and walked back to Thantos Cabin, I saw Clarisse looking out at me through the window of Ares Cabin. She was nodding admirably and gave me a thumbs up. I nodded back to her and kept walking.

_But oh, man was it worth it!_ I decided as my face flushed bright red.

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(Ivan Chernov)

(Ognenny Ostrov. Maximum Security Prison, Lake Novozero, Russia)

"Get up," said a guard as he poked me in the side with his nightstick.

I rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed, blinking the sleep from my eyes.

"Someone's here to see you," he said as he put the handcuffs on me and led me outside of my cell. "You have ten minutes to make yourself presentable."

"Who is here?" I asked, as I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand. I hadn't had a visitor since I was sentenced here four years ago.

"You will find out," he said as I was led down the corridor from Solitary Confinement to…wait, _past_ the inmate showers?

I suppose I shouldn't be asking questions. I was already lucky enough here in Ognenny Ostrov. Usually, this is a place for people on Death Row, but I had been given a life sentence, despite my crime against Russia. I could tell that most inmates here were extremely envious of me, since what I had done warranted death by bullet, not lethal injection. But someone had pulled a string and got me sent here with a letter that said I was not to be killed when I turned eighteen and had to be shipped from a juvenile detention center to a maximum security prison where I had lived the last two years of my life.

As I walked past the faded poison-green walls of the prison, I swallowed and hoped that my sentence wasn't about to change, or worse, that something had happened to my brother back in "juvie." Usually when a man with a life sentence was visited, it was either from his lawyer with good news that he had been wrongfully convicted. Or it was someone from the government who needed questions answered. I had already told them everything about the plot and showed them how to disarm the device. But they hadn't been thankful when they passed their sentence on me and my brother. After all, I was from Chechnya, which was a state full of terrorists and bombers.

The guard stopped me at the employee quarters and unlocked the handcuffs. He pointed inside.

"There's a fresh set of clothes on the counter," he said. "You are to shower, brush your teeth and hair, and make yourself presentable in ten minutes. Then, you will meet your visitor."

"Da," I said as I went inside and closed the door.

The guard's bathroom was much nicer than my own. I had no shower in my cell and the toilet broke every day. Everything was clean as well, as if it had just been set up for me. And that's what made me nervous as I stripped off the orange prison jumpsuit and stepped into the shower, turning the water all the way up. Steam filled the stall as I sighed in bliss, the boiling hot water waking me right up after a night of frozen agony in that small concrete cell with no windows and no heat to battle the freezing late-January night. I grabbed the bar of soap from the ledge and scrubbed off the two years' worth of filth that had accumulated on my body, watching the black and gray grime slip down the drain. I washed my face and quickly finished showering, knowing that I was on the clock. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw how much I had aged. My dusty brown hair was shaggy and my black-green eyes were sharper and more attentive from the hundreds of books that I had borrowed from the library to pass the two years that I had been here. I brushed my teeth, which had somehow refused to turn yellow with the conditions here. I shrugged and dried myself off with my free hand, spitting the toothpaste down the sink drain.

I threw the towel aside and paused when I saw the clothes. They weren't prison jumpsuits, they were civilian clothes. Perhaps I was being released? And maybe Ivan was getting out as well! I threw on the shirt and pants before lacing up the running shoes I had been given. I brushed my hair into a neat and orderly position and ran back to the guard.

"I'm ready," I said as I held out my hands for the cuffs.

"He says you don't need them," the guard said in a flat monotone. "Come, you're almost late, Chechen."

I followed him further down the corridor and into a nicer section of the prison. I walked through gym and basketball court towards a place I had never been to. The guard looked over his shoulder at me when we paused at an oak door with a brass handle.

"A word of advice," he said. "Whatever offer he makes, you take it. Understand?"

I nodded and he opened the door for me. I walked inside a dark room and he closed the door behind me. I looked around in the darkness as a little light came on from the other side of an oak table. I squinted at the desk lamp as a man exhaled and sat down.

"You are Ivan Chernov," said an old voice. "You are twenty years old and a citizen of the Russian Federation, living in the city of Grozny in the state of Chechnya until your arrest four years ago for conspiracy to commit State Treason and terrorism against the motherland and were sentenced to serve a life sentence in a maximum security prison when you turned eighteen."

"Da," I said, as I stood at the other end of the desk, trying to see through the darkness at the man who was talking to me. "That is me."

"Not anymore," he said. "You do not exist at this moment. No one knows you are alive."

I swallowed, remembering the man who had interrogated me had said the same thing. That meant that this man was from the government, and I could tell that this was going to be very unpleasant for me.

"But," the man said, sliding a folder across the table, marked with my name and crime. "I can make all of this…go away."

The lamp shone my way, illuminating a chair. "Have a seat, Ivan," he said.

I sat down and the light remained pointed in my eyes, forcing me to squint.

"What I am about to show you is highly classified information," said the man. "If you tell anyone what you have seen, anyone at all, I will have you killed. Understand?"

I nodded and swallowed again as the man passed me a very thick file marked with hundreds of stamps and orders. I picked it up carefully, like I was holding a bottle of nitroglycerin.

"Read it," said the man, "and everything will be clear."

I opened the file and skimmed the first page. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped at the images and reports I read.

"I am dreaming," I murmured and the old man laughed.

"Nyet, you are awake," he said.

"But…how are there gods?" I asked, looking up from the file. "They live in America and control world affairs? And they have superhuman children who live and fight for them? Monsters from old myths and legends exist and hunt people for food and fun? The Tsar Nicholas the Second was a child of…Zeus? How is this possible?"

"You do not need to know that," said the man. "At least for now, that is. Now, do you know why I am here, Ivan?"

I shook my head.

"The motherland requires your assistance in a matter of national security," he said. "Will you help us?"

"What would you have me do?" I asked him.

"We have operatives in America," he said.

"Spies?" I said, interrupting him. "You want me to spy for the KGB?"

He laughed. "You would get caught in a few days, no," he said. "We have operatives who are better trained in blending in with the Americans. But this is what we need from you."

He tossed me a stack of newspapers, each with a photo of a boy on the cover. He had silver hair (which I found to be very strange) and he was cradling a long rifle with a scope. The headline screamed "Teenaged Sniper Repels Invasion," "Hero of Soilkamsk," and "Threat of Terrorism at Large."

"Last week, we were attacked at a small city called Soilkamsk near the Urals by an army we have never seen before," said the man. "This boy in the pictures was from a small town over the mountains called Tobolsk. The army destroyed Tobolsk a month before what happened at Soilkamsk and killed everyone there but this boy, committing brutal war crimes. He chased them across the Urals with that rifle and a knife, killing their officers using guerrilla sniper attacks. But that is the tip of the iceberg. We know that army was sent from Greece, so we will go to war with them and crush them. But the order for the army to march was sent from these gods in America."

I put two and two together. "You want me to make a bomb," I said. "And then this bomb will be sent to the agents in America for them to plant and detonate to repay them for ordering their army?"

"Da," said the man. "Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is code named OPERATION JUSTIFICATION. You're objective will be to build strategic weapons of terror for our operatives to use against our enemies in America."

"You could just say you want me to build bombs," I told him.

"I know I could," he seemed to smile behind the blanket of shadows that obscured his face.

"But what makes you think I know how to build bombs like that?" I asked, trying to act tough so he wouldn't see me as weak and find another bomber to use.

"Because I looked at the bomb that was intended to go for the Kremlin," he said. "I also know it was your mother who taught you chemistry and your father was the one who taught you how to use electronics and the fundamentals for engineering. Your mother was a chemical engineer at Kilmovsk Specialized Ammunitions Plant here in Russia and your father worked at the Sellier & Bellot small arms factory in the Czech Republic as chief engineer. Both of your parents were Catholics and they would later pass that religion on to you. You and your younger brother were born in Prague, Czechoslovakia, but you moved to Moscow soon after he was born, gaining a citizen status with the motherland. After your parents were both laid-off at their respective factories, you moved to Grozny where you began your homeschooled education, where your mother and father taught you math, chemistry, engineering, and basic physics and science. Your brother also learned from them, which is why he was also arrested when he confessed to assisting you with the Kremlin Bomb."

"What would I do if I accepted?" I asked.

"First, you would receive a full pardon and your criminal record would be erased," he said. "Next, you will be put on a plane to America to live and work with two of our agents at our secret facility below Wall Street. Apparently, they need a specific kind of bomb built to carry out an assassination."

"What will the living conditions be?" I asked.

"Five star," he said.

"I'll need a lab," I said, "as well as specialized equipment and tools for building the device."

"We can arrange for it," he shrugged.

"And I'd need an assistant," I said. "Someone who I can trust with secrets and who has the same knowledge of chemical engineering that I have."

The man leaned forwards so I could see the lower half of his face. He smiled, revealing ivory white teeth.

"I know just the person," he said. "And he's already agreed to go."

"One more thing," I said. "What do I get out of it aside from my freedom?"

"You'd work for the Committee of State Security (KGB in Russian) as an unofficial espionage agent," he said. "In America, you live in luxury, good pay, and your brother will be sent to school at the finest institution available. After the job is done, you both will finish school here in the motherland and then continue working for us, receiving the same benefits and pay that a high-ranking colonel receives."

I swallowed, and grinned at my good fortune. "I accept," I said, extending my hand.

He shook it and knocked on the paneling of the table. The door behind me opened and in rushed a young boy.

"Brat!" he yelled as he tackled me right out of my chair. _(Brother!)_

"Ivan?" I exclaimed as my younger brother looked up at me.

"Da, it's me!" he yelled as he allowed me to get up again before he hugged me again.

"You got a pardon to?" I asked.

"Da, earlier this morning!" he yelled, his chocolate-colored eyes sparkling with joy. "Comrade Padorin released me and he said he'd release you too! Brother, I'm going with you to America!"

The man, who I assumed to be Padorin, chuckled.

"You two remind me of another pair of brothers," he laughed. "One of them is just like you."

"He is an engineer?" asked Ivan with all the curiosity of a ten year old boy locked in the body of a thirteen year old.

"Nyet, he is a physicist," he said. "He had an older brother who died in the service of the motherland."

He sighed heavily. "I miss him," he said softly.

"He was your son?" I asked as I managed to pry Ivan off me.

"Nyet, my godchild," Padorin said. "But that is talk for another day, Comrade Chernov. Your plane to New York leaves tomorrow night, so you both should enjoy the motherland a little before you go. There is a room reserved for you in Moscow for today, so you will have plenty of time to get reacquainted with each other. And I have a gift for the both of you before you go."

He slid a thin yellow package across the table. I picked it up to see it was an American computer program called Rosetta Stone.

"You will need to learn English to blend in with the crowd there," he chuckled. "Have fun, and give Misha my regards."

He knocked on the table again and the guard entered.

"Your car is waiting outside, Comrades," he said, talking to me and Ivan before he faced Comrade Padorin and pulled out a small silver-colored cell phone. "And Comrade Padorin, there is a man who is asking for you on your cell phone."

"Spasiba," he said as he stood up. "Well, Comrades Chernov, I wish you both luck with your mission."

I nodded as Ivan dragged me outside by my hand to where a shiny black SUV was waiting.

"Ivan, you've gotten stronger!" I remarked as he pulled me along.

"Da," he smiled as we walked up to the car. "I've also gotten better with computers. My cell mate was a hacker and he taught me how to hack computers and fuck around with systems."

The driver opened the door and saluted us both. "Good morning, Comrade Colonel," he said. "My name is Ilya Fedorovich Bubovoy. I have orders that I am to be your new driver."

Confused beyond all rational thought, I saluted him back. "Dobraye utro, Ilya Fedorovich," I said. _(Good morning, Ilya Fedorovich)_

I got in the car, trying to figure out what had just happened. One moment, I'm just a terrorist from Chechnya who received no consideration or was even addressed as "comrade." Now I'm a colonel being chauffeured around by my own personal driver in a KGB car with my younger brother, who I haven't seen in four years.

"You're a colonel?" Ivan asked as we buckled our seatbelts.

"We both are," I said. "We're working for the KGB in exchange for freedom."

"Chto?" Ivan exclaimed. "You're joking!" _(What?)_

I forgot that my brother had a love for spy novels, spy movies, spy games, and anything involving spies. To him, this would be a great adventure. But to me, I still knew that even though Padorin hadn't said it, we were risking our lives for this. If we got caught or somebody fucked up, we were dead. So it was up to me to be mature and keep him safe.

"Da, you're a spy," I laughed, pushing the unhappy thoughts to the back of my mind. I was free, my brother was free, and we were going to be heroes to the motherland.

"Awesome!" he said, pumping his fist.

Ilya laughed from the driver's seat. "I suggest you get comfortable, Comrades," he said. "It is a long drive to Moscow. There is some water and food in the back behind your seats if you get hungry."

I remembered that I hadn't eaten breakfast and grabbed the first bag of chips I found, shoveling them down as fast as I could. I relished their taste as this was the first quality meal I had had since I was thrown in prison. They were salty, crunchy, and a little stale from the cold. They were the best chips that I had ever had. Next to me, Ivan was eating in a similar fashion.

"Hey, Ivan," he said. "What kind of bomb are we going to be making for the Americans?"

"I'm not sure," I said. "But I did read up on my chemistry in prison. Don't worry, whatever they need, we can build it."

He nodded and turned back to his food.

"Ok, Comrades," Ilya said as he started the car. "We will be in Moscow in approximately six hours. From there, it is a nine hour flight to America. I am told that you will meet Colonel Suvorov at the terminal in New York when you arrive. He will take you to your destination."

"Very well," I cleared my throat and tried to sound like I was really KGB material. "Proceed with your orders, Ilya."

"Da, Comrade Colonel," he said as we pulled away from Ognenny Ostrov.

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(Klementi Ivan'ch Suvorov, Wall Street)

(The next day…)

"So," I sighed as I tried not to cough on CARDINAL's smoke. "It is time, da?"

"Da," he nodded. "The Chernovs should be arriving at LaGuardia Airport in an hour."

"Is the bomb factory set up?" I asked, looking at the floor towards the basement where we had cleared out a specialized space for the brothers to work. "The palm scanner is now functioning properly and the equipment they requested is in place?"

He nodded and rubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on his desk. "Klementi, wait a second," he said. "Padorin called me this morning with new orders for you."

"Oh?" I asked, surprised that my orders were changing.

"He says that both of the Chernov brothers have been recruited officially by the KGB," he said. "And they are both now Colonels so as to get around without any trouble with our other agents here in New York. But your new orders are to assist the brothers in the planting and detonating of any bombs they make. They will need protection when doing this, Klementi."

"So I must send our agents off to baby-sit them?" I asked.

He nodded. "But only when they need it," he said. "The younger one is going to attend a school in Brooklyn to add to his cover," he told me. "His brother will drive him, but I want you to have men follow them both each day. Don't worry about me; I'll be fine for a few minutes and besides…I've got you guarding the building in person. But if anything happens to these men, then OPERATION JUSTIFICATION will be scrubbed and the both of us will be burned if we can't get out of the country in time."

"Alright," I said as I got up and straightened my tie. "I will meet them at the terminal."

I turned and walked out of the office, the pistol in my shoulder holster feeling a little heavier than usual with my new responsibilities. I pulled out my phone and dialed MOLE, one of our other agents in Manhattan. MOLE was an informer and a courier of information to our operatives around the city, so he would be able to get the word to the men I needed faster than I could. After a few rings, he picked up.

"Hello?" he said in English.

"This is SORGE," I said tersely in Russian. "Contact three of our men and tell them meet me at LaGuardia in half an hour. Our specialists are arriving from Moscow shortly."

"Right away, Comrade Colonel," he said and hung up.

I hung up and put my phone away as the elevator stopped in the lobby of our covert headquarters. On the ground, it looked like a respectable Russian banking corporation's overseas office. But underground was a series of sub-basements and complexes that rivaled those of Lubyanka Prison back home in Moscow. The men who staffed it had named it after that building so they could have a little taste of home here. And it was in those in rooms at "Lubyanka," that the KGB ran operations throughout America, under the very noses of their capitalist gods, who often frequented these banks on Wall Street to cash checks, as our informers told me. CARDINAL ran the economic office, which was just another way of saying he stole money from the Americans and sent it back to Russia, and was thus the head of the "corporation." But I was the ranking KGB officer here, which meant that this was my facility to run and OPERATION JUSTIFICATION was my mission to carry out.

"Colonel Suvorov," said one of the security guards through my security earpiece. "We have a guest."

"What class?" I asked, wanting to know the level of the target.

"Belyy," he said. _(White)_

"What does he want?" I asked, knowing that it was a low-priority target.

"He's trying to withdraw money from an overseas account," said the agent, who I could see was standing in the corner of the room nearest to the target.

I watched as the girl working the desk looked at him and tapped her finger on the desk seven times before swiping it sideways to the right and then tapped the desk again with the same finger. It was a code that we had established when we had set up operations here. Finger taps meant a number like one, two, three, and upwards. A finger swipe to the right meant it was upwards of a hundred dollars, just as a swipe to the left was below a hundred. And if that swipe was followed by a single tap, it meant it was a deposit of over a million dollars. Seven taps, a right swipe and then another tap meant that it was seven hundred million US dollars, which would go well with the billons we were going to obtain after the Chernovs got here. The girl looked at me and I nodded, giving her the order to stall him at the desk until I got back. If he tried to put up a fuss, then the guards would move in and take him to the "back room," which meant an interrogation and possibly torture in the secret complex below.

"I'm sorry, sir," said the girl to the very short and pudgy American man, who was practically standing on his toes to see over the desk. "But we have no record of you ever opening an account with us. If you like, I can open one for you now?"

"Sure thing, hot stuff," the short man said with a very flirtatious wink to go with his overly amorous tone.

_A love god_, I thought to myself. _Well, whatever information we get out of him won't be anything helpful to the mission. But money is money, so maybe getting access to his other bank accounts won't hurt if he's trying to withdraw seven hundred million dollars._

"Orders, Colonel?" asked the guard.

"Hold him here until I get back," I said into the mouthpiece. "CARDINAL has just asked me to pick up his friends from Grozny at LGA. I'll help you deal with him once I get back."

"Yes sir," said the agent as he lowered his hand from the mouthpiece and settled back into his position in the corner.

I grinned as I watched the short man as he tried to fill out the impossibly long form for account opening, having to redo questions as he got confused.

_It'll be fun watching him squirm,_ I decided as I walked outside and into the car that was waiting to take me to LGA.

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(Ivan Chernov [older])

(LaGuardia International Airport)

I decided that my legs had never hurt so much as I got off the airplane. Nine hours sitting down learning how to speak English while Ivan and I chugged soda after soda to keep ourselves awake to learn the next chapter of Rosetta Stone English. My eyes burned from staring at the DVD player screen and my head was echoing with "hello…goodbye. Repeat after me."

"I don't feel so good," Ivan moaned, speaking Russian as he rubbed his head.

"Ivan, we have to speak American," I told him, forcing my tongue to roll out the difficult American words.

"Oh, yes I am sorry…brother," he said as he tried to remember the lesson on family names. "Now where is our car?"

"Down at the road," I said, feeling so awkward and out of place as the tourists who were coming home from their vacation looked at us very strangely. I switched to Russian for what I said next. "Damn, American is hard to speak!"

"Let's just stay quiet until we meet up with Colonel Suvorov," Ivan said, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Da, good idea," I replied as we walked into the terminal.

The first thing I noticed was the temperature. America was much warmer than Russia in late January. It felt like early spring here rather than late winter, as I was expecting. We walked past the boarding area, which was absolutely _packed_ with people waiting to get on a flight or greet their loved ones as they returned. I looked around at the people holding signs with names on them, but they were all in American and I didn't know the English alphabet all that well to read them and be sure of what they said.

"Which one is Colonel Suvorov?" I asked Ivan. "Did Comrade Padorin tell you what he looks like?"

"I thought he told you!" Ivan swallowed, knowing we could be in trouble.

I swallowed with him, scanning the crowd for a man who might be Colonel Suvorov, Klementi Ivan'ch. White cardboard signs were everywhere, obscuring most of the faces present. And there was no hope to use the process of elimination, as the second one sign went down, another one took its place.

"You look over there," I told Ivan, pointing at the right side of the crowd. "I'll look over here. Tell me of you see."

"Ivan Chernov?" asked a voice from behind us.

Ivan and I jumped and whirled to face the speaker. He was a man a few years older than me, maybe around twenty-nine or so. His black hair had a few streaks of dirty gold highlights in it and was cropped short in a military fashion so his cold gray eyes could survey the room freely. He had a strong face and jaw as any military man should and his voice had a slight commanding boom to it, probably to get subordinates to fall in line.

"You are Ivan Chernov, da?" he asked.

"Da," both me and Ivan spoke in unison.

The man blinked in surprise, but regained his composure quickly. He extended his hand towards me, standing ramrod stiff.

"I am Klementi Suvorov," he said, shaking my hand before shaking Ivan's. "Mr. Ustinov has sent me to drive you to his office. Your bags are already being collected at the carousel."

"Privet, Tovarich Suvorov," Ivan said. _(Hello, Comrade Suvorov)_

"Call me Richard for now," he said as he turned around and walked off towards the terminal exit, switching to flawless English as turned. "Now come. There is an urgent matter that I need to attend to."

I shrugged and ran after him, Ivan jogging to catch up with the both of us.

"How is your English?" he asked as we entered the elevator.

"Not very good," I said, stumbling over the words a little.

"We'll fix that," he said as he turned to Ivan. "Maybe your brother can teach you what he learns in school?"

"_Chto_?" Ivan exclaimed, forgetting his English. "I'm going back to school?"

"Yes, and you need to learn to speak English _at all times,_" Suvorov said, his last words emphasized to remind my brother.

"But…" Ivan stammered, not knowing the English words he wanted to say.

"Ivan, you need to go to school," I said sternly, the English suddenly flowing easily over my tongue. "Neither of us finished our education back in Grozny and it's too late for me to get a proper education beyond what I know of chemistry, math, and engineering. But now you have a second chance to finish what mom and dad started. Don't kick it away because you don't like it now, just give it a fair shake and I'm sure you'll like it. Besides, if you want to have a good life, you need to do well in school and graduate college, so you're going to school and that's final."

"But!" he said.

"That's final," I repeated. "Now come on, we are wasting time."

Ivan shrugged as he admitted defeat, reluctantly following me as I followed Suvorov. The spy turned to me and spoke again in English.

"The equipment that you requested has just been installed," he told me. "How much time will it take before the first model is finished?"

_It's a code,_ I realized. _He's talking about the bomb._

"It will depend," I shrugged. "I will need to know the…customer's design specifications."

Suvorov's eyebrows went up in surprise. _Perhaps you will be of use to us after all,_ he seemed to say silently.

"I have the specifications in the car," he said as we walked outside and over to a sleek black company car. "Allow me."

He opened the door for me and Ivan before he got in the passenger's seat and shut the door.

"Here," he said in Russian as he handed me back a thin manila envelope marked with an American name. "The car is soundproof so feel free to speak Russian."

I opened the file and looked down at the photos of the same woman in many different places, all taken by camera. "Who is this?" I asked.

"The target," Suvorov said. "Her name is not important to you, so do not concern yourself with it. All you need to know is that if she dies, CARDINAL will be able to negotiate a multi-billion dollar business deal with her father."

I flipped through the pages, looking at the schematics of her apartment for a spot for a homemade mine.

"What kind of bomb will it be?" Suvorov asked.

"Depends," Ivan shrugged, looking over my shoulder at the file before he casually snatched it from my hands. "The composition will depend on where it needs to be placed, and that can change the type of bomb that we build. It's very complicated, Comrade Suvorov. And from what I can see here, it will take some time before we start construction."

"We will need it soon," he said. "The longer we wait, the more suspicion we arouse."

"Wait, stop a second," I told Ivan as I flipped back through the pages to a photo of a car. "Is this her car?"

"Da, and it costs more than I make in three years," he said. "A Porsche, custom designed and paid for out of her father's pocket."

"What's the engine like?" I asked.

"What?" Suvorov asked, turning around to face me from the front seat.

"The engine, what kind is it?" I asked. "Does it require a lot of maintenance on a regular basis?"

"Da, it has to be serviced twice a month because she drives it every day to pick up a…date," Suvorov grimaced at the word.

He looked at me and mouthed the word "prostitute," being sensitive enough to not talk about those kinds of things in front of a child. I nodded and pursed my lips, remembering how I had once been approached by a "hooker" back in Chechnya and how awkward that encounter was for me.

"Well, if the engine is delicate like that, then I'd say it could possibly be unreliable," I said. "Maybe even dangerous?"

Suvorov's eyes lit up. He had the cover story for the explosion that would tragically kill this young woman.

"Potassium Chlorate should do the job," I said.

"Da, it should blend well with the gasoline in the tank," Ivan agreed. "The police won't be able to track it back to us."

"And the device itself?" Suvorov asked.

I grinned, my body tingling with the thought of returning to what Ivan and I did best: build the weapons of a secret war. I ran through the mental list I carried of all the devices that Ivan and I had ever built for our group back in Chechnya. Any of them would do the trick for a simple car bomb, but we needed to show Colonel Klementi Ivan'ch Suvorov that the Chernov Brothers were KGB material.

"We have an experimental "clean" payload package that we were working on back in Chechnya," I said. "The design is good, but we could never make it work with the materials we were given."

"What is it?" he asked. "What does it do?"

"Well, it explodes when you push a button," Ivan joked. "But for the packaging, we would need military-grade supplies."

"We have those," he said. "And the…Potassium Chlorate, how long will it take to make it?"

"It'll take half a day to mix the chemicals down to a perfect blast," Ivan said.

"For the whole bomb, maybe three days," I said. "We need time to fix and correct any bugs in the design."

"We'll start right when we get to the lab," Ivan said.

"Excellent," Suvorov said as he picked up his radio. "All units, return to Lubyanka. I want a special guard detail on precious cargo until we are below ground, copy?"

"Copy loud and clear, Comrade Colonel," the radio crackled. "Taking flanking position beside your car now."

"Precious cargo?" I asked.

"You," he said, returning to his terse and to the point attitude.

Ivan and I looked at each other and grinned.

_I think I'm going to like my new job here,_ I thought as I crossed my arm behind my head and slouched in my seat.

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(Klementi Ivan'ch Suvorov)

I walked inside the lobby with the Chernovs on my heel. Behind them were the three men I had ordered out here as guards. One of them, Alexi, ran up next to me and nodded towards the counter.

"The American is still here," he said.

"Take him down," I said before I looked at Yuriy behind us. "Prep the interrogation room. We'll do this off the books."

Yuriy smiled, knowing how much this tiny half-god, half-pussy would scream, and pulled out his radio with the secure connection down to Lubyanka. I nodded to Alexi and moved to flank the man at the desk. We both towered over him, our black suits contrasting his white one.

"Sir, there is a small problem with your new account problem," Alexi said, his English as flawless as his accent. "We will need your full cooperation."

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

_If I he just said that there is a problem, then I would assume so,_ I thought. "No, we are just needing an ID check from you. If you will just follow us to the back room for a fingerprint test."

"Okay," he shrugged before turning back to the desk girl. "See you later, honey."

She blushed and I knew that something was wrong. She was a trained espionage agent, who didn't fall for a few words from a very short man. At least she wasn't supposed to be _that_ easy to get on with.

"Go to the sick room," I told her, giving her my very best "bad cop" look, as I had heard it was called in America. In Russia, it was known as the "fuck with me and I'll murder you in your sleep and bury your body in the woods" look. "You do not look like you have your priorities in order, Comrade. Why don't you take a break and clear your head, da?"

"Yes, Comrade Colonel," she said, paling and stepping down. She probably knew what I was capable and what my orders were pertaining to possible traitors.

She got down and walked with me to the elevator, which would take us down to the basement. From there, we would take the secret elevator down to Lubyanka and begin the interrogation.

The small god was ironically walking very tall for a man of such short stature. He brushed off his white suit periodically, even when I could tell it was spotless, and even stopped to comb his hair in the reflection of the polished marble floor.

"Klemen…Richard, who is this man?" Ivan the older asked, correcting himself right in time.

The tiny god turned to him and looked insulted, completely missing out on the fact that both of the Chernovs could stomp him flat.

"You've never heard of me?" he asked, getting right up (or at least trying to get) in the Chechen's face. "You got cotton in your ears or something, boy?"

"Is he high?" Ivan the younger asked Alexi, who merely shrugged in response.

"_High_?" the little man was nearly screaming, and thus drawing the attention of all the Americans in the room. "Why you disrespectful piece of shit!"

There was a crack of skin hitting skin and the small god skidded across the marble floor. I looked to see Ivan's knuckles were turning red from that haymaker punch as he walked over to the man and dragged him up.

"Do not say those things to my brother," he said, flatly. "Or you might wake up one morning with a fairly…valuable piece of you missing."

"Sir, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with us," I said as I took the small man from Ivan's grip.

"Yeah, yeah, the fingerprint thing," the love god said, smoothing his hair back. "It's cool, everything's fine."

"No sir, it's not," I said as Yuriy tossed me a set of handcuffs. "You've just instigated a fistfight with the grandsons of our CEO. I'm going to have to detain you, sir. And I have a legal warrant to do so."

He sputtered as Alexi ran over to make sure Ivan was alright, an act as we had practiced it many times in case one of our operatives got into trouble with one of the capitalist gods. As for the warrant thing, nine times out of ten they never ask to see it. This was one of those nine times.

"Wait, stop!" he said/screamed as we dragged him back towards the elevator. "Don't you know who I am?"

I waited for Ivan and Ivan to get in the elevator before Yuriy pushed the button for the basement.

"Come on, I'm sorry!" he wailed as his voice turned into a high pitched whine.

"Shut the fuck up," I said as I drew my pistol and struck his across the back of the head with it.

He went down with a hard smack as Ivan the younger grinned.

"Awesome," he said in Russian. "I can't believe I work for the KGB now!"

His brother smiled and tussled his hair as we reached the basement.

"This way," I said as we walked through the large cement room towards the cargo lift.

Alexi dragged the god while I ran ahead and opened up the secret keypad under the buttons. I punched in the code, 10171917, the day of the Bolshevik revolution, and the lift slowly sank into the floor. We passed through a solid foot of reinforced steel and concrete as we got to the entrance of Lubyanka. Both Chernovs were wide eyed with amazement as Alexi and Yuriy dragged the small man down the hall, which was fairly busy with agents today.

"Come," I told them. "I'll show you your new lab."

"Then what?" Ivan the older asked.

"Then you get to watch an interrogation," I grinned, jerking my head at the unconscious god.

They both grinned and jumped off the lift, running down the hallway to the complex's elevator. One of the buttons was marked red for their lab, which was directly next to the armory, and the server room. Below that was the interrogation facility, where we would be heading next.

One of the agents ran up to me with a file.

"Colonel Suvorov," he saluted and held out the file. "From the communications intercept post, Comrade."

"Put it on my desk," I said. "I have an interrogation to carry out."

"Da, Comrade," he said as he turned and ran back into the dispatch post.

A few seconds later, the Chernovs were looking at their new lab space. Both Ivans were nodding with approval as they inspected their new equipment with gusto.

"This is excellent," remarked Ivan the older as he tested a Bunsen burner.

"Da, we'll have the bomb ready in no time," said the younger as he picked up a high-speed drill and electrician's soldering iron.

"Excellent," I said. "Now the interrogation?"

"Please," Ivan the older said, extending his hand towards the elevator. "Lead the way, Comrade."

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(Annabeth)

(Camp Half-Blood)

I slowly opened my eyes, my head pounding like a drum. Sunlight poured through the window of…my cabin? How did I get back home?

My head suddenly flared and I winced, grabbing it and feeling the bandages. A memory of the _Stalingrad_'s massive heavy gun firing flashed across my eyes as I flashed back to what had happened.

The _Denali_ rocked back and forth as the massive Russian battlecruiser rammed into her weakened form, splitting the beams open and shredding through all the armor and reinforced Celestial Bronze. The floor under my feet caved and I fell as Percy tried to grab me. I screamed and hit the water as he used his powers to make it soft and catch me, but couldn't stop the large piece of steel from falling down and hitting my head before I blacked out.

It had obviously been some time since that incident. The calendar read that it was now late January, so I had been unconscious for at least a week. Percy suddenly snored beside me and I looked over at him, his normally peaceful face distorted by worry.

"Seaweed Brain?" I moaned weakly.

He woke with a start and grabbed my hand.

"Annabeth, you're awake," he panted. "Don't move, I'll call the Apollo kids."

I grabbed his wrist and somehow managed to hold on. "Wait," I told him. "Natalie and Clarisse…what happened to them?"

"They're fine," he said. "They jumped ship just in time."

"The Stalin Bomb?" I asked.

He hung his head for a brief period of time before he looked at me, his green eyes shining with concern.

"I shouldn't tell you until you're better," he said.

"They took it back, didn't they?" I asked.

He nodded and I rolled over onto my back, groaning.

"Have they made any threats?" I asked, staring up at the ceiling.

"No, and I don't think they can do anything until Ivanovich is better," he said. "I talked to Will from Apollo Cabin, and he said that it may be months before they can fix his shoulder all the way. So we have much more time than we thought."

He passed me a newspaper and held it over my face so I could read it. "But this is something we may have to consider as a possible threat."

I squinted at the picture until the fuzziness in my vision went away. It was a single Russian boy who looked way too tall for his age. He was dressed in a long brown army coat and his hair was a strange metallic silver. He had a rather large knife in his right hand and he was shouting angrily at someone. But what my attention was really fixed on was that in his left hand, he had an empousa gripped by her hair…and he knew it was a monster he was holding. I could tell by his eyes and their angry sparkle and shimmer that some monsters had done something terrible and he had killed them for it.

"What's it say?" I asked, since my eyes weren't ready to focus enough to read words.

"It says that Russia was invaded by a Greek terrorist army a few weeks ago," he said. "They attacked a small farming town called Tobolsk and killed everyone there, destroying the town completely. But one boy survived and he tracked them through the mountains with a sniper rifle and a knife, killing their officers before they could reach Moscow. They reached the town of Soilkamsk and engaged the inhabitants and local police in a snowstorm. They won and killed every single monster."

"What's his name?" I asked as I felt sleep fight to take me back.

"No one knows," he said, rubbing my forehead. "But he has a nickname that he answers to."

"What is it?"

"He calls himself Pyotr Veliky," he said softly as I blacked out again. "And I have a feeling that he's going to cause some trouble with us."

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(Klementi Ivan'ch Suvorov)

(Lubyanka Secret Complex, Wall Street New York City)

By the time that the Chernovs were done looking at their lab, the interrogation room had been set up. Behind the one-way glass mirror, the tiny god was hanging by his hands from the ceiling like a punching bag. He was blindfolded so he couldn't see us when we interrogated him, but that didn't stop him from struggling and swinging around on the chain.

"You boys stay here," I told the Chernovs. "Watch this one out."

"May we have some popcorn, Comrade Colonel?" Ivan the younger asked.

I laughed. "I'm sorry, Ivan," I grinned. "But we don't have any."

I motioned for Alexi and Yuriy to follow me inside and we each took up a stance surrounding the man.

"Who are you people?" he asked, clearly afraid.

I punched him in the gut and he swung back to Alexi. He struck him across the spine and sent him to Yuriy, who then did a spin kick into the soft spot of his side. The tiny god squealed with pain as his soft skin started to bruise.

"Who are you?" I asked as I stepped back and allowed my men to have their fun.

"My name is David," he said as Yuriy struck him again. "David Berring."

"No, I didn't ask for your name," I said as they beat him. "I asked who you were."

"I'm a banker!" he cried.

"Why were you here today?" I asked, keeping my voice calm and even as Yuri Padorin had taught me to.

"I…I…," he panted as Alexi suddenly tore his shirt off, elevating the torture to the next level. "Hey, this is expensive!"

He tossed me a taser from the tool bench and I flicked it of before jamming it into his side. He gurgled and his body jerked around as the electricity flowed through him.

"Why…were…you…here?" I asked, removing the taser.

"'Just wanted to flirt with the desk girl," he mumbled, his body still jerking.

"Bullshit," I said as I have Yuriy the taser. "Who else is working with you?"

"NobodAAAAAUUUGGGH!" he screamed as Yuriy tasered the back of his neck.

"Alex," I said, keeping my voice in English so as not to blow our cover should he escape.

"Yes?" he asked from the bench.

"I don't think that was his real name as I saw someone slide a piece of paper under the door with the word "Eros" written across it.

"Me neither," he said.

"So why don't we have Mister Eros tell us everything?" I asked.

"Wait, whose Eros?" he asked as Yuriy tugged off his pants and shoes. "What are you gonna do to me?"

I grinned as Alexi picked up a bloody knife and hefted it. Time to do something that not even James Bond himself would be able to withstand.

"Cut off his penis," I said as I averted my eyes away from Alexi as he did his job.

I'm fairly certain that the tiny god's scream could be heard all the way from the top of Olympus itself.

_This is going to be fun,_ I mused. _I get a bomb and a prisoner, the Chernovs get their freedom, Misha get the deal set, and the Politburo gets the money. It looks like everyone's happy! Everyone except Eros, that is. _

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(Pyotr Veliky)

(SVR Headquarters, Yasenevo District, Moscow)

I sat in the chair, calmly reading the many newspaper articles about me. It was interesting to read about my own little "adventure," as one magazine called it. I quickly skimmed the page, noticing only one photograph of me had been taken and I had not been asked for an interview by anyone. I had also been briefed by the government that I was not to tell the public what actually happened at Tobolsk. I couldn't say they were monsters, they told me. I had to say they were men.

I saw the words of Comrade Father, Feliks, the Captain at Soilkamsk, and even little Evanova had been asked her opinion on what had happened and her words had been put down along with the article. I smiled when I saw her description of me: "a tall boy with weird hair. And he is a hero to all of us."

Hero. I was a hero, I supposed. I was against any public decoration, because I was technically a civilian and I wished to remain anonymous to any enemies I had made in the world. I had asked the government to allow Feliks or Sergeant Reznov to receive the medal they wanted to give me, but they refused to allow me to go unnoticed. I was a national treasure, they said, "a symbol courage and bravery to all Russians." I didn't want decoration, I wanted revenge! I wanted the head of the man, woman, or devil who had ordered Minos to march on Tobolsk hanging over my fireplace! But I didn't know who had ordered the attack and officially, the government denied it had any knowledge of the culprit. Which is why I was here, sitting outside the office of Yuri Padorin, Chairman of the SVR, our foreign intelligence service: to find out.

A door opened and a woman poked her head out of the doorway. "Comrade Veliky," she told me," Comrade Padorin will see you now."

"Spasiba," I said as I put down the magazine so that the picture of me holding the Fiery Woman to the people of Soilkamsk before I stabbed her, shouting "their land, their people, their blood!" faced up.

She moved aside and showed me down a network of long, brightly-lit hallways until I reached a doorway. She opened it for me and revealed a large office that overlooked Dzerzhinsky Square. The desk at the back was a large oak one with only a few things on it: three photographs, a steel pencil cup with a pencil and a pen, and a telephone.

_He must be a very simple man_, I admired as I walked over and picked up an old black and white photograph of two young men standing with their arms around each other's shoulders.

I set it down and looked at the next picture in line. It was another black and white that showed both of the men again, but one was getting married to a very beautiful woman. The other man, I assumed, was the best man. The final one was in color and showed the best man once again, but he had aged considerably and had two boys around his arms. Both were young men and both were very happy. They looked like brothers, I noticed, as they both shared the same brilliant blue eyes, but one had blonde hair while the other one, the older judging from him being nearly a foot taller than the boy next to him, had hair the color of the midnights in Siberia. I saw a pair of names written below the image: Nikolai and Vasily, and I assumed those were their names.

"So, Comrade Veliky," said a voice from my right. "It is a privilege to finally meet you."

I quickly set the photographs down and turned to face the man from the final picture as he entered from a side door that lead to another room. He hadn't aged much since the last photo, but he looked more tired. His eyes had no spark in them, I noticed, unlike the man from the pictures. He noticed my haste and smiled.

"They are handsome boys, aren't they?" he asked, pointing at the photo of him and the two boys.

"Da, they look strong," I smiled, knowing I hadn't stepped across a boundary.

He laughed as he motioned for me to sit down in the chair across the desk as he took his own seat. He pressed a button under his desk and the woman poked her head in the door. "Elena, would you bring some vodka, please?" he asked, though I could tell it was more of a command.

"Of course, Comrade Chairman," she said before looking at me. "Would you like anything, Comrade Veliky?"

"I'll have some vodka as well," I said.

"Aren't you underage?" she asked.

"Elena, this boy survived one month of Siberian winter alone with no fire and no shelter," Padorin told her. "He fought and killed those who threatened his country, some with his bare hands, if I recall from the papers. I do not think a few slugs of vodka will hurt him."

"Of course, Comrade Chairman," she said, fumbling at his words as she closed the door and walked off to get the drinks.

"She thinks too much," I told him.

He laughed. "Da, but she is a good worker," he said as Elena brought the drinks in and poured us both a tumbler before she left quickly.

I toasted him before I threw it all back in one gulp. I was becoming more and more used to the taste and burn of hard liquor on a regular basis, considering that I was having some every day to stop the pains. At the hotel, I had tried everything they had: beer, whisky, rum, scotch and nothing work but vodka straight from the bottle with nothing to dull its effects.

"You drink much?" he asked as he sipped his drink.

"Vodka takes the pain away," I told him as I poured myself another.

"And what pain would that be?" he asked as he set his half-finished tumbler to the side.

"Grief," I told him. "Loss, mourning, and sorrow. Comrade Padorin, I haven't slept at all since I got to Moscow last week and do you know why?"

"I do not know," he said, leaning forwards. "Why is that, Pyotr?"

"Because I see them in my dreams," I told him. "My mother was incinerated in the blink of an eye and she screamed for nearly five minutes before she passed. Father was slaughtered by a giant dog who played with him like a cat does with a mouse until his neck broke and it tore his head off. And Tania…she was turned into nothing and I don't even know how. And each night, those memories come and I am forced to relive them…I have to watch them die all over again."

"Pyotr, I am sorry," he said. "I truly am sorry, Comrade. Believe me, I have lost people I cared about and I could do nothing to avenge them."

"But that is my point!" I shouted, slamming my fist down on his desk so hard that the pens in his cup jumped and the photos wobbled precariously on their stands. "I _can_ avenge my family! I can kill those who ordered the attack and burn them from the face of the Earth! Which is why I came here, Comrade."

I leaned forwards, the thick brown sleeve Red Army coat knocking my empty tumbler over onto the table.

"They told me they don't know who did it," I said. "But I don't believe them. You run our spy network, so you know who did it."

He was silent, so I took the opportunity to continue on.

"Tell me who is responsible," I growled. "And tell me where to find them. I swore that I would kill all responsible and I will mail their heads back to Russia for President Putin to hang above the Kremlin gate if he wants to! I need to finish the hunt and kill those responsible. I'll do whatever it takes to put them in the crosshairs."

Padorin was silent for a while, his eyes studying me intently. He was testing me and I knew it. He needed to see if I had the balls to kill again, but this time kill out of hatred, not self-defense. Finally, he picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"I need one plane ticket to America," he said into the speaker, tersely. "First class and put one bag under reservation."

He hung up and stood, walking over to a TV scream on the wall. He pressed some buttons on the control panel and the screen swung to the right, revealing a hidden safe. I turned my head as he put the combination in, opened it briefly and then shut it, the fake TV screen closing behind him. He handed me a thin file marked **NEXUS** in red ink.

"This is what we have on her," he told me. "I know you were told that a certain "Earth-Mother" ordered the army to march. It was a lie."

I felt my fingers tighten from anger, but I was careful not to bend the file.

"We intercepted some communications from the Greek Embassy here in Russia heading to America a few weeks before the Tobolsk Massacre," he continued. "They spoke in code, but we've managed to decode most of the cypher."

"What was it?" I asked. "What were they talking about?"

"It was an order," he said, "an order for Minos and his soldiers to leave nothing standing and to take no prisoners. And we know who sent it."

He motioned for me to open the file so I did and stared down at a black and white, image of a very young girl.

"Her name is Artemis," he said. "Immortal Greek Goddess of the hunt and virgins."

"When was this taken?" I asked, feeling the adrenaline course through my veins. A goddess…and now she was my target. This would be a legendary hunt, for sure. I knew I couldn't kill her, but I could hurt her and that would be enough.

"1965," he said. "One of our operatives occupying the town of Seelow Heights in East Germany shot this photo of her and two others girls from his house. They were armed with bows and arrows and were dragging a large carcass behind them."

"The girls?" I asked, knowing I could possibly get some information there from relatives.

"Both dead, no living relatives," he sighed. "One of a stab wound in 1984. The other was killed during a car crash in '69."

"And what about Artemis herself?" I asked. "Where is she now?"

"Currently staying in the Olympian Palaces in America with half of her little group of lesbians," he spat. "The other half are playing with the children of the other gods. You should know that to join the group, you have to be a virgin girl and swear of men forever. In exchange, you get eternal life that fades if you are killed in battle, get sick, or break the oath."

I took the photo from the file and tucked it into my chest pocket, next to the Tokarev that I had refused to take off when entering.

"What will the opposition be?" I asked. "If I am going to infiltrate this palace, I need to know what I'll be up against."

"There's one man at the door of the elevator," he told me. "But we've never gotten past that."

"I'll improvise," I told him as I grabbed the bottle of vodka and took a long swig from the neck before I left the office. "Thank you, Comrade Padorin."

"Pyotr, hold on for one moment," he said before I closed the door.

I poked my head back in as he stood up and walked to me. "I'm going to arrange for you to take some new ammunition for this hunt of yours," he said. "It'll be more effective against an immortal than the standard-issued bullets you received from Sergeant Reznov. They'll be waiting on your bed with the suitcase when you return to your room to pack."

"Thank you, Comrade Padorin," I said as I clasped the old spy's hand and shook it hard. "I will bring you her head when I am done with her."

He laughed and shook my hand back firmly. "Good luck," he told me as I closed the door. "Be safe."

As I got into the car that I had been given, saluting the driver as he liked to be addressed, I thought of the trap I would set. Bodies, I decided, would be the bait. The trap itself would come later. I looked at the photo of the goddess as we drove back to my room at the Tverskaya Hotel. I studied her face quietly, tracing my finger in a circle on her forehead.

_The bullet will go there,_ I decided. _So I'll be able to see her eyes as she falls back to the ground. _

Just as I was finished with these thoughts, the car pulled to a stop in front of the Tverskaya Hotel and the driver opened the door and I got out, saluting him once again. I walked up the steps of the hotel, feeling the cold evening air. It wasn't crisp and fresh like Siberia and the breeze smelled horrible when it hit me in the face, but I could get used to if after I got back. I stepped through the revolving door and walked over to the desk to inform the hotel I would be out for a few days, because the government had arranged for me to have a permanent residence here in one of the finer suites. So until things changed for the better or for the worse, I lived here.

I waited in line until it was my turn to talk to the man at the desk.

"Yes, how may I help you?" he asked in a bored tone.

"I am going to be out for a few days on business," I told him fixing the position of the thick wool cap that I had worn instead of the one Comrade Father had given me for scarcity in a crowd. "But I will return."

"Yes sir," he said until he looked me in the face and sighed. "I'm sorry sir, but you must be eighteen to stay here. Would you just go to the nearest motel please?"

I smiled. _He must be a brand new hire_, I thought, as almost nobody knew that I stayed here, not even the hotel staff.

"Comrade, I have a room here," I said, pulling out my room card to prove my statement.

He took it and squinted at it, rolling his eyes after a second before handing it back.

"A forgery," he announced, clearly wanting to do as little work as possible. "Sir, I'm going to ask you to leave now or I will call security."

I laughed good-naturedly, although my patience was beginning to wear thin, and took the card back. "Comrade, you may check with your manager that I have a room," I told him. "He has been informed that I am here."

He lifted the phone to his ear and gave me an "I have the power here," look. I rolled my eyes, fed up with this man's antics. I had a plane to catch and a goddess to shoot and yet my time was being wasted by a skinny, acne-riddled man in an ugly uniform. I looked behind me to see that the lobby was pretty much empty except for a few couples who were too tired and drunk to do anything.

"Last chance, Comrade," I told him.

He began to dial and crossed the line. I lunged and grabbed him by the neck of his uniform and pulled him close to my face. I grabbed his hand and forced him to hang up the phone before I pulled out the Tokarev and jammed the barrel into his chest to stop him from screaming.

"No noise," I told him as I put the gun back and grabbed the reservation book from behind the counter, keeping a firm grasp on his shirt as I flipped back to last week and the day I got here. "Take a look at the name under room 193, would you?"

He shakily looked down around my hand at the name inscribed there in my own handwriting.

"What does it say?" I asked him.

"V-veliky," he stammered.

I removed the cap and showed him my hair, watching his eyes widen even further.

"If you don't believe me, I can go get a magazine," I said as I pulled out the cell phone I had been given. "Or I can just call the SVR and ask Comrade Padorin what he thinks."

"C-c-comrade Veliky, please forgive me," he said as I let go and stepped back from the desk. "I-I-I had no idea you were staying here, I just started two days ago!"

"It is alright," I told him as I put my hat back on. "We must all do your jobs, Comrade. Even if we do not like them."

"Of course, Comrade!" he said as he logged into the computer. "What did you need from me again?"

"I am going to be away from my room for a few days," I told him. "I'm not exactly sure when I will be back, so please keep my room reserved, Comrade."

"Yes, Comrade," he said, typing furiously as I walked towards the elevator. "Have a good night, Comrade Veliky."

"You too," I said as the doors closed.

I ran down the hall as soon as the doors opened and entered my suite. Just as Comrade Padorin had said, there was a package sitting on my bed next to a black suitcase that had already been packed. My rifle case was next to it in a black gym bag with my knife handle sticking out of the bag's opening. Next to that was a set of American clothes for me to change into tomorrow. I smiled and took off my coat, deciding to leave it here for the trip to America. It would just draw unnecessary attention to me.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and opened the package, revealing a green munitions box. I opened that and found twelve magazines for the Dragunov, which translated into one hundred and twenty shots, as well as a few magazines for the Tokarev. I slid out one of the rounds, feeling the weight of the 7.62x54mmR armor-piercing sniper round. It felt off, somewhat heavier than the normal round that I had fired at Soilkamsk…but it looked at the same as the other rounds.

I looked at the shipping card on the munitions box to see if there was anything that it could tell me about the bullets. I quickly skimmed the words and swallowed at what I saw written there in neat military font.

**OPASNO! OBEDNENNOGO URANA 7.62x54mmR BRONEBOYNYMI RAUNDA. OBRASHCHAT'SYA S VNIMANIYE! **_(DANGER! DEPLETED URANIUM 7.62x54mmR ANTI-ARMOR ROUNDS. HANDLE WITH CAUTION!)_

D.U. rounds were extremely hazardous, as I had learned from a few soldiers as they set up fortifications at Soilkamsk before I had come to Moscow. They could cause cancer and the wounds were extremely hard to treat, even by the most skilled field doctor. One bullet would be enough to do the job, and one magazine could possibly be considered overkill. But to give me _twelve_ magazines…Padorin must want me to do more than kill Artemis. He must want me to destroy her several times over for good measure!

I carefully slid the bullet back into its magazine and locked the clip back into the case, gingerly placing it in the gym bag with my rifle and zipping my knife inside as well. I paused and removed the Tokarev Comrade Father had given me as well as the photo of my target from my coat pocket before I zipped them into the bag as well. Like I would ever leave that gift here for this hunt!

I quickly undressed and pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs for the night. I then walked to refrigerator and pulled out the bottle of Father's vodka that I had saved. I hadn't had any of it since my drink with Comrade Father at Soilkamsk, so there was nearly a full bottle left. I shrugged and popped the cork out, setting it down on the kitchen counter while I got a tumbler. I poured myself a full cup, thankful that father had used such big bottles to store his work, and held the cup up towards the night outside. I would leave first thing in the morning. Provided my new ammunition didn't give me cancer in my sleep, that is.

"The game has almost started," I whispered to the calm night outside. "Artemis, if you can somehow hear my voice then know this: wherever you are hiding, whatever magic you possess…neither of them will save you now."

I gunned down the vodka with gusto and slammed the cup down on the counter before I got into bed and fell asleep.

And for once, I had no dreams of Tobolsk.

**THINGS ARE NOT HEATING UP! PADORIN LIED TO VELIKY AND NOW HE HAS A GODDESS AS HIS NEW TARGET AND THE RUSSIAN OPERATION IN AMERICA IS NOW LARGER THAN THEY THOUGHT! EROS IS NOW CAPTIVE AND IS BEING THOROUGHLY TORTURED BY SUVOROV. PLUS, NOW THEY HAVE A BOMB THREAT COMING FROM A PAIR OF BROTHER BOTH NAMED IVAN! CAN I GET ANY CRAZIER WITH THIS PLOT? ANSWER: YES I CAN! **

**NEXT TIME: THE GAME BEGINS AND WE SEE WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO NIKOLAI! I'LL SEE YOU THEN, COMRADES. PLEASE LEAVE ME AN OC CHARACTER JUST LIKE DEVIN LONGHART FROM WOLFGIRL 1221, OKAY? IT'S NICE TO GET A BIRTHDAY GIFT THAT WE ALL WILL BE ABLE TO ENJOY!**

**-MickDunD**


	8. The Game Begins

Chapter 8: The Game Begins

**PRIVIET, TOVARICHS! HERE I AM WITH THE NEWEST CHAPTER OF THIS GREAT STORY, ACCORDING TO YOU, MY FAITHFUL READERS. THIS ISN'T MY LONGEST CHAPTER, THAT WAS CHAPTER 6, BUT IT CONTAINS THE SPARK THAT WILL SET THE WORLD ABLAZE WITH SOVIET FIRE! JK, THAT COMES LATER. BUT THERE IS A BUNCH OF TRUTHS REVEALED HERE THAT WILL ROCK YOUR WORLDS. **

**ONCE AGAIN, WILL YOU PLEASE GIVE ME SOME OC CHARACTERS? I PROMISE I WILL USE THEM, LIKE I USED DEVIN LONGHART FROM WOLFGIRL 1221. **

**READ AND REVIEW!**

(Dr. Nikolai Pavel'ch Ivanovich, Ph.D.)

(Gorki-8 Medical Clinic LLC, Moscow)

"Will someone turn off the damn beeping!" I shouted.

Right away, a nurse came in and turned down the volume on the pulse monitor attached to my heart.

"Sorry, Comrade Doctor," she apologized as I struggled to sit up in my bed.

"I can't sleep," I said to no one in particular. "Why…why was she there?"

"Would you like a sleep aid, Comrade Doctor?" asked the nurse.

"Nyet, that won't do me any good," I said, waving her away with my good arm. "I need to talk to Vasily now."

"Vasily?" she asked, clearly surprised behind her surgical mask.

"My brother," I said as I pulled off the sensory pads and pulled on the tube to remove the IV from my wrist. "I need to speak with my brother."

"But…he is dead!" the nurse said as she tried to push me back down onto the bed.

"I know that!" I snapped. "But I need to talk to him. Sergey!"

My best friend promptly kicked down the door and held his pistol on the nurse. No, really. He literally kicked the door down like in a movie.

"What is it?" he asked, sweeping the room with his gun.

"I need to get out of here," I told him as I pushed the nurse off me, wincing as my wounded shoulder burned.

He nodded and came back with a wheel chair. I eased myself into it and Sergey started to wheel me outside, since I still wasn't fully recovered from my surgery.

That bullet back in Havana had done more than expected. My shoulder had been badly dislocated by the impact, too badly to be repaired on sight. Not only that, but my collar bone had been broken and it was also a bad break. Coupled with the bleeding and all the trauma I had been through, the doctors estimated it would be maybe a year before I could use my arm again without reopening the wound.

I was in fucking agony over the whole ordeal. At least that traitorous bitch, Cortez was dead. Even if it was Natalia who killed her. And why was she even there? Had she been following me all these years wherever I went? If so, where was she when I was I in Rankow? Was she a demigod? No, that was not possible.

Sergey "borrowed" an ambulance from the hospital and drove through the late night like a professional stunt driver.

"Why do you want to speak to Vasily?" he asked.

"There's no one else who will understand this," I said. "No offense, Sergey. But sometimes family comes first."

He nodded, understanding completely, and kept driving. We arrived at the cemetery a few minutes later, the ambulance stopping waking me up from a short doze. Sergey opened the door and helped me step down, taking care not to upset my shoulder at all.

I'm not going to tell you where this cemetery is, because it is a secret that only me, Sergey, and Uncle Yuri knew about. I never even told Natalia when we were together. I'm not telling anyone else because if any of the Americans found out where my older brother was buried, they might try and desecrate his body. You understand, don't you?

"Wait here," I told Sergey. "I'll be back soon."

He nodded. "Tell Vasily that I say hello," he said.

I walked through the cool night air, no flashlight to shine the way. I had come here so many times when I was a boy, especially after Natalia betrayed us, that I knew every turn and step by heart. Talking to Vasily always calmed me down and helped me understand my problems, just as he had helped me when he was alive.

I finally came to a single headstone. It wasn't heavily decorated and the block of granite was just starting to wear away around the edges. There was a single star carved above the name; Vasily Petrovich Ivanovich, and the engraving: "a patriot to the motherland."

"Vasily," I sighed and sat down in the snow in front of his tombstone. "What are we doing? Our people are dying each day in poverty and shame. We are being attacked by monsters from our darkest nightmares who take pleasure ending the lives of innocent Russians."

He said nothing back.

"I miss you, you know," I told him, my voice cracking slightly. "I cried…so hard after you died. Just like when mother and father died…you were taken from me just like they were taken from us when we were boys. Uncle Yuri was furious and tried to have that pilot shot after he landed."

The wind blew hard across my face, but I wasn't cold in the night air.

"I've lost so many people," I said, my resolve finally fracturing and I started to cry softly. "Grandmother, grandfather, mother, father, you…and Natalia. She defected you know, she stopped calling me from America, stopped sending me letters. For months, not one peep from her and then she calls me one day to tell me what a bastard I was and how she was never coming home."

A dog barked somewhere in the distance, a low howl cutting through the night air like a knife.

"Why?" I cried, "why did you all have to die!? Was it me? Am I to blame?!"

No answer came from him, but I was sure of what he would say: that I was not to blame and it was just fate.

"I don't believe in fate, Vasily," I said, standing up. "But there was some reason that Natalia came to me. And Vasily, believe it or not, I still love her with all my heart. She betrayed us, all of us, and for that I hate her. But how can I still love her at the same time? This is so confusing to me."

I could picture him laughing and tussling my hair, telling me that sometimes even the smartest of people can get confused. I sighed and got up, feeling lighter now that I had told someone about my feelings.

"Thank you for letting me come and bear my heart to you, brother," I said as I turned around and walked away. "I'll talk to you again once I'm well enough to be officially released from the hospital."

Now all I needed to do was finish all my calculations and equations for the Stalin Bomb. Natalia could wait until I was out of the hospital.

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(Pyotr Veliky)

(LaGuardia Airport)

I calmly waited at the baggage carousel as the rest of the people there talked loudly and excessively, pulling the ski cap down lower over my ears to try and block out the noise. The clothes I was wearing were strange as well. Thick blue pants called "Levi's," a black shirt with a picture of a solider shrouded in shadow with the words "Black Ops II" written in Cyrillic, an ash-gray jacket with a hood, and running shoes instead of my combat boots. The rest of my clothes and combat outfit was stowed inside my suitcase.

I decided then and there that I would never fully understand Americans. They lived at the heart of the monster's nest, the place that Padorin had had told me they were born from out in the desert to the west. But yet they were so calm and collected about it, even though they shouted when they spoke, ate foods that would give them heart attacks, tried to act out their lives like they were in a movie instead of living, and had the worst taste in music.

_Ignorance must really be bliss,_ I thought as I saw my duffel bag and suitcase moving off the carousel.

I snatched the case from the track and grabbed my duffle bag, which contained my rifle, pistol, knife, and ammunition. Basically everything that I needed to do my job here and exact my revenge was inside that bag. I grabbed the handle of it and tugged but I saw that another man had grabbed it. I looked down at the tag to see if I had grabbed the wrong bag, but there was my name written there on the claim tag. The man on the other handle, a tall American with a scruffy beard, tugged harder on the handle as he attempted to take it from me.

He said something to me in heavily accented English and pulled again on the bag.

_He must think it's his_, I thought as I held on.

"This is mine," I said as I pulled it back out of his grip. "Yours must be coming soon."

He wrinkled his nose at my Russian and grabbed the bag again, saying something else. I raised an eyebrow and took it away from him again.

"Sir, this is my bag," I said, showing him my name written there. "It contains my property and belongs to me."

He must not have been able to read Cyrillic, because he started to shout at me until a woman walked over and spoke to him. He pointed at me and started shouting some more. The woman shook her head and faced me.

"Sir, this man is claiming that this is his bag," she said in accented Russian. "He's asking that you let go of it now."

"But this is my bag," I said. "Ma'am, please tell him that it's mine and I can prove it."

She nodded and translated it to the other man. He just shouted again and tugged hard on the handle. I just pulled it back and slung it over my back.

"I have to go now, I'm going to be late for an appointment" I said, narrowing my eyes at the man as he tried to grab it back. "If you try and take it one more time, I will cut off your tongue and feed it to you."

The woman translated as I walked away towards the doors, my suitcase rolling behind me. On the plane, I had learned how to use American transportation thanks to a little tourist book I had bought back at Sheremetyevo Airport in Moscow, so I knew how to get to the Empire State Building without attracting to much attention. But first, I had to prepare for my mission.

I ran into the nearest bathroom and into the stall with my duffle bag and my suitcase. There, I opened both and dumped in the combat jacket, cargo pants, ski mask, combat boots, and tactical reserve parachute that I planned to wear tonight, putting all of the mentioned items into the duffle bag. After that, I zipped up the suitcase and duffle bag, careful not to jostle the ammunition box out of caution.

As soon as I was ready, I left the restroom and walked out onto the departures road. I remembered what the book had said and I whistled loudly. Sure enough, a yellow American taxi cab pulled up in front of me and the door opened wide. The driver, an African-American man, looked at me expectantly. I got in and set the duffle bag across my lap. He asked me a question in English, possible asking what my destination was. I swallowed and held up a finger to signal "one minute," as I dug through my suitcase for the tourist book. I flipped through the pages rapidly until I found the section on New York City's landmarks and scanned the page for the English pronunciation.

"Empire State Building, please," I told him, my heavy Russian accent tearing up the words.

He nodded his head and pulled away from the airport, not knowing that I would be back here very soon. I read through some more English pronunciations for simple words for conversation, learning what I needed in case I had to fast-talk my way out of a tight spot. I got carsick after a while and put the book away to avoid vomiting, since I wasn't used to cars and hadn't been in one since Larochka's stunt driving back in Soilkamsk before the battle. The driver talked as he drove, and he talked a lot. And the fact that he kept taking his hands off the wheel to make gestures didn't make me any less uncomfortable. I unzipped my bag and fiddled with my knife's handle inside the bag to pass the time, tuning out the driver as I looked around at America's most famous city. Everything was gray stone and loud, though there was a little snow here and there. It was all so alien to me, there was no calm, no silence for you to hear yourself think. Here in America people couldn't think at all, so they relied on their gods to think for them. But that would change very soon, as I had heard from a few men back at the SVR building a few days ago.

The drive was quick and before I knew it, we had stopped outside the Empire State Building. The driver tapped panel that displayed the fee and I just gave him the bill with the largest number I could find in my wallet before leaving. I didn't really care if I paid too much or too little. I was used to rubles, not dollars and now was not the time for me to learn about it.

I walked inside, dragging the suitcase behind me. My rifle began to feel heavy as I found a nice corner seat on the ledge and pulled out the tourist book to mask my face. I eyed the doorman sitting at his desk from my seat and studied him quietly over the top of the book. I needed to know his habits before I struck, already deciding to use his body as bait. Padorin told me that this particular doorman had a special key card for the elevator, and to get up to the palaces, I needed that card. And I was pretty sure he wasn't going to give it up willingly, which was fine considering that I didn't plan on asking nicely.

I smirked and looked at the clock, counting the time until the building closed and I started working.

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(Devin Longhart)

(Camp Half-Blood, New York)

Today was just a little more boring than usual. Nothing happened outside of the ordinary. Just the usual monotonous schedule of camp activities that were designed to teach us how to survive and be fun at the same time! Yeah fucking right, like learning how to weave baskets and how to tend horses would help us against the Russians.

I lay back on my bunk, humming off tune to the lyrics of _Light 'Em Up_ as it played from my docking station. I loved songs like that; ones that made you feel ready to start a fight. My entire playlist was full of them: _Carry On (_BlackOps II Version),_ Light 'Em Up, Scream and Shout, Hall of Fame, Holiday, _and _Blackout. _My mind slowly started to slip away into the music, my lips silently moving to the words "burn everything you love and burn the…_ashes_!" But before I could go completely zombie, I heard someone blow on that dammed conch shell horn and call everyone for a meeting.

"Fuck," I casually swore as I shut off my music and ran outside over to the Amphitheatre, where the entire camp was slowly filing in.

Rachel Dare, our Oracle of Delphi, was sitting on her stool as per usual when the spirit was going to say an impossible riddle that basically said "go kill an evil thing before it kills us." But something was wrong this time. She was shaking and convulsing rapidly on her seat and she had two campers struggling to hold her down.

"Hey, Chris," I asked the son of Hermes. "'The fuck is going on with Rachel?"

He shrugged. "It looks like something is blocking the spirit from talking," he said.

"'Ya think she swallowed a bug?" I asked, trying to be funny.

He didn't laugh. "Might want to pick your timing better, death boy," he said as he walked off towards Clarisse.

I scowled at him and looked back at Rachel, as green smoke was starting to fill. A chill went down my neck as the spirit of Delphi started to speak.

_Children of old, the time hath come_

_With the Bear's attack, rubble Olympus becomes. _

_The Great is first to begin his brawl _

_Should he succeed, then the further peace falls._

The camp was silent as the smoke vanished and Rachel sucked in air like she had been choking. She gasped and fell off her stool, landing on her hands and knees to break her tumble. Still no one spoke, because something was incredibly FUBAR. Usually the spirit vaguely said something about the Giants and Gaea as well as where they were and what was going to happen. But now all it had said was a bear is going to turn Olympus to rubble and someone called "The Great" is going to start the attack.

I smacked my head. Boy I was dense!

"They're going to attack Olympus!" I yelled to the crowd.

"Who?" Piper asked.

"The motherfucking Russians, that's who!" I yelled. "The bear is the animal mascot for the Soviet Union."

"He's right," said Annabeth from her wheelchair as Percy pushed her along into the gathering. "It's the Russians."

"Then we have to get to New York right away!" said Thalia, as she and the hunters of Artemis stood. "We need to warn Lady Artemis and tell her that an attack is coming."

"Then hurry," Rachel croaked as she sat back against her stool, her voice sounding like she had gargled nails. "Because the attack is going to happen today."

We all looked at her with a combination of fear and confusion.

"It told me I had to tell you myself," she said, rubbing her throat. "Otherwise it would break the rules for a quest prophecy."

"Is that why you couldn't breathe?" Percy asked.

She nodded and waved him away. "I'll be fine," she said. "Stop the attack and find that "The Great" person."

"How many can go?" Leo asked.

"It didn't say," she coughed hard. "But keep it at five people to be safe."

"I'm going with the hunters," Thalia said. "So I'm not going to count. I'll see you there."

With that they ran out of the Amphitheatre and up the road out of sight. I swallowed and realized that I had a chance to prove myself in front of everyone, to show that our only hope for victory would be to fight the modern way. I stood up and cleared my throat, all eyes turning to me.

"I'm going with you guys," I said.

"Devin, no offense, but what do you have that could stop a Russian attack?" Drew said, trying to turn the crowd against me in revenge for yesterday's stunt.

"I know their codes and protocols," I said automatically. "I've read up on their tactics, as well. And no offense, Drew, but I think that spraying them with perfume will just make things worse."

"Devin goes," Clarisse said. "He's got my vote and Ares cabin's as well."

"Hermes also agrees," Chris said, nodding in agreement. "I've seen him shoot."

"Then get your gun," Percy said, jerking his head at my cabin. "We leave in ten minutes."

"I'm staying here," Annabeth said. "I think we all can agree that I'm not in any condition to fight off a Russian assault. Seaweed Brain, I want you and Devin to go and take Piper, Leo, and Clarisse. Go defend Olympus."

I nodded and sprinted over to my cabin and grabbed up my rifle bag, stuffing it with as many magazines as it could carry.

_Get ready,_ I told myself as I zipped up the bag and ran back out towards one of the camp vans. _This could get ugly. _

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(Pyotr Veliky)

(Empire State Building)

_Almost time_, I thought as I saw the employees and security guards pack up and leave for the night.

I waited until I was the only one in the lobby besides the doorman before I unzipped my duffle bag and drew my knife, hiding it under my jacket as I closed the tourist book and stood up. The doorman casually looked up at me as I walked over to him, but turned his eyes back down to the book he was reading. I grinned inwardly like a predator as I closed the distance between us until there was nothing sanding in my way but the desk. When I was standing right in front of him, he looked up at me and said something in a bored and apathetic tone. I looked behind me at the main door and behind him at the elevator doors to make sure no one was coming before I showed him my grin. He cocked an eyebrow as I pulled my knife out and showed it to him.

Before he could do anything, I jumped and slid over the desk, kicking him back and knocking his chair over. I landed on top of him and covered his mouth as I stabbed him through the throat and cut his spine. He went limp right away, eyes rolling back towards the ceiling. I waited a second and listened to see if anyone was coming before I put my knife between my teeth and used both hands to frisk the doorman's body.

I found the key card in his jacket pocket, the one with the strange arch symbol on it. I pocketed it and grabbed his body by the armpits, dragging it back towards the elevator at the end of the hallway and out of sight, leaving a thin trail of blood on the floor. I pushed the button and the doors slid open right away. I rolled the body inside and put the card into the slot. A new button glowed and I pressed it right away, the doors closing at the elevator moving up at a slow and steady pace.

I then unzipped my duffle bag and pulled out my rifle case. I sat down and opened it up, assembling the powerful Dragunov rifle in less than a minute. After that, I opened up the ammunition box and picked one of the ten-round magazines from inside. The DU rounds inside were heavy as I slid the clip into the breach and chambered the round, testing the optics of the scope before I slung it over my shoulders. I then loaded my pistol with a seven round DU clip and set it aside as I changed into my combat clothes. The vest, cargo pants, combat boots, ski mask, and reserve chute replaced my civilian clothes and I would change into my spare set that I had left in the lobby before I returned to Russia. I holstered my Tokarev and sheathed my knife as I listened to the tune of the elevator music, rolling my eyes behind my mask.

"Why do the Americans have such horrible tastes?" I wondered aloud as the elevator finally dinged and I stepped outside, dragging the doorman's body behind me and into the place of the gods.

What lay before me…cannot be put into mortal words. It was like getting a glimpse into heaven but being alive to tell others what you saw there. There were palaces everywhere, all of them made of ivory, silver, gold, and other shiny metals. There was warmth and lush fauna everywhere as well. Huge grape vines climbed up tall Greek arches and columns that overlooked the entire mountain. On the top of the mountain top was an even larger building that boasted "meeting place of the gods." I grinned and ran towards it, the doorman's body bouncing limply behind me.

Suddenly I heard someone say something to my right and I turned to see two girls a few years younger than me standing off to the side of the road. They were dressed in silver clothes and carried bows and quivers strapped across their backs. I remembered what Padorin had told me, about the little lesbian girls who swore off men wearing silver clothes and carrying bows and my mind turned immediately to "revenge."

I dropped the doorman's body as I fell onto my knee and drew my knife from my belt as I rolled forwards over my shoulder to slash the lead girl's throat. The blade passed cleanly through her skin as I slid past her to stab my knife into the second girl's stomach. She didn't die right away so I grabbed her head and twisted it around, leaving my knife lodged in her abdomen. There was a sharp snap from inside her neck as her bones shattered and she too went limp in my arms. I stood up and looked at the bodies.

_They'll be good bait,_ I decided as I dragged the doorman's body to the steps of the big temple and dropped it there, hearing the sounds of heated arguments and shouting from inside the doorway.

I returned and dragged the other two bodies to the spot and paused when I was about to find my sniper's position. I needed to send a message to these demons, something that would tell them who had done this and to warn them never to attack the motherland again. I frisked the doorman's body again and found a scrap of paper and a pen and quickly wrote four words down. I pressed the paper into his dead hand and jogged off into the city that was there below on the mountain. I kept to the shadows, carefully creeping around anyone I saw. I didn't need to kill anyone else and it was only a matter of time before someone found the bodies at the bottom of the temple. So I needed to hide quickly, take my shot, and vanish just as fast.

I selected a large lighthouse-like structure relatively close to the temple and quickly climbed into the tower. I sprinted up the steps, the Dragunov bouncing on my back with every step I took. I reached the door to the observation platform and tugged on the handle. It was locked tight, so I drew my pistol and my knife just in case there was someone on the other side of the door. I kicked down the door and swept back and forth with the Tokarev, making sure no one was there. Once I was sure I was alone, I holstered the pistol and unslung my rifle. I crouched down to hide as a cry echoed through the city. Through the scope, I saw that there was another girl in silver yelling and pointing at the bodies. I grinned behind the ski mask and flicked the rifle's safety off, watching the action through the scope as more and more people ran into the plaza outside the temple. It was only a matter of time before the goddess of hunting came outside and fell into my trap.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," I laughed to myself, my finger curling around the trigger. "We have unfinished business, Artemis. Time to even our score."

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(Devin Longhart)

(New York City)

The ride here to the Empire State Building was faster than usual with Thalia flooring the accelerator. In the back of the van, we were all arming ourselves for war. I had already disassembled and reassembled my M16 three times out of anxiety, not paying attention to the landscape flashing by.

In less than twenty minutes, we were at the door of the Empire State Building. Right away, I opened the door and ran into the lobby, my knuckles turning white around the barrel of the rifle as the hunters of Artemis exited the two vans and entered behind me with the campers who had come with us.

"Where's the doorman?" Clarisse asked as she walked in, carrying Maimer in her arms.

"I think I know," Leo gasped sharply, pointing towards a blood trail along the marble floor, his finger following it as it went behind the corner where the elevator to Olympus was hidden.

"It's tonight," Piper swallowed hard and slowly walked forwards. "The Russians are attacking Olympus tonight."

"No," I shoot my head slightly and followed behind her. "The Russians are attacking _now._"

"The elevator!" Thalia cried as she and the hunters charged forwards, following the blood trail to the elevator doors.

She punched the button and the doors opened, revealing a pool of blood and a set of clothes. I kicked aside a pair of Nike running shoes as Piper shied away from a pair of blood-soaked jeans.

"It's one man," one of the hunters, a nymph, determined. "I can only sense only one man's energy here."

"Who is he?" Percy asked.

She scowled at him like he was an idiot. "I can only sense that there was someone here, _boy_," she spat like it was an insult. "I cannot see his face like through a television screen."

I noticed that Thalia swallowed hard and pursed her lips before speaking. "If they only sent one man," she said, "then there's a good chance they sent Sergey Kamarov."

I pursed my own lips. Sergey Kamarov was one of the deadliest men alive and if he was here, then there was no telling what he had planned for the gods. Maybe he smuggled some kind of tactical nuclear weapon in here and was going to set it off on Olympus or something just as equally diabolical.

"But what if it's not Kamarov?" I heard myself say. "What if they sent someone else?"

"It has to be Kamarov," Thalia insisted. "Who else would they trust with a mission of this magnitude?"

"I don't know," I admitted as I looked down at the black metal of my assault rifle, shifting it back and forth in my hands as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

We all stepped out of the cramped elevator and bolted up the path towards the temple. I ran like a soldier, my rifle swinging back and forth in my arms across the axis of my body like I had seen in the movies. I quickly pulled ahead of the hunters and was neck and neck with Clarisse as we picked up our paces. She shot a nervous grin at me as we ran, her blonde hair gently falling in front of her eyes as time seemed to suddenly slow down. My heartbeat stopped and I started to fall behind, but time resumed normal speed and picked up my pace again. We entered the plaza outside the Olympian council and saw a group of minor gods, hunters, and nature spirits gathered around in circle. From up the stairs of council building, I saw as the gods as they ran outside to see what was going on and why everyone was screaming.

Zeus, Hades, Poseidon, Ares, Demeter, Aphrodite, Dionysus Hera, Apollo Hestia, Hermes, Athena, Hephaestus, and Artemis waked outside…just in time to hear the single gunshot split the air.

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(Pyotr Veliky)

(One Minute Earlier…)

They were coming outside now, I saw. I scanned each face, looking for Artemis. She wasn't here amongst them as they slowly descended the steps of the temple. From my vantage point in the tower, I was aiming down at them and had my rifle and body hidden from sight. I had the perfect setup, so I was content to wait here until Artemis showed herself, even if it took days, weeks, months, or even years.

A flash of silver caught my eye and I turned the rifle to focus on it. There she was…Artemis herself, goddess of the hunt. And here she was, in the crosshairs of my sniper scope as my prey. I grinned and adjusted the rifle in my shoulder and hand, my fingers gripping the trigger guard gently as I tracked her.

"This if for my family," I said as I centered the crosshairs on the center of her forehead, the DU rounds making the rifle heavier.

I counted my breaths like Reznov had taught me to and slowed my heartbeat, the goddess completely unaware that the hunter was now the hunted. One…two…one…two. My heartbeat slowed with every breath. My arms ceased shaking with excitement as the thrill of the hunt set in. She wouldn't die from this, she was immortal. But I would return to hunt her until the day I died if I had to for my vengeance. I would take from her…all that had been taken from me by her command until all she held was pain and she begged for someone to end her life. And at that moment, I would come to her and allow her to die. But now, I had to begin that pain with this one action that would shake their world.

I pulled the trigger and the Dragunov thundered louder than it usually did, the bullet striking Artemis's head just like I planned. The gunshot echoed around the still night air, the boom of my revenge carried with it. I saw that she didn't die as the depleted uranium bullet pierced her skull and brain, so I watched as her eyes filled with surprise and fixed on my own eyes. I grinned as she fell over, her body tumbling down the steps and coming to rest at the bottom, obscured by the crowd.

"Mother, father, Tania," I said aloud. "You can rest in peace now. I have avenged you all."

I quickly disassembled my sniper rifle and placed it back in the duffle bag, slinging it over my shoulder as I walked down the stairs. I took my Tokarev out and chambered it in case I found anyone else…or they found me. Now all I had to do was get to the edge of the mountain, parachute down to the city, change my clothes to avoid detection, get a cab to the airport, and get on the first plane back to Russia.

The catch was I first had to escape an entire city of demons and gods who were all looking for me.

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(Devin Longhart)

(Olympus)

(Present Time)

"SNIPER!" I yelled to the crowd as the gunshot split the air. "GET DOWN!"

Artemis's body jerked back hard as the sniper's round struck her in the center of her forehead. Her body tumbled down the steps of the Olympian Council building and was immediately surrounded by her hunters, shielding her from any further attack. The minor gods and nature spirits screamed and scattered, bumping into each other as they changed shapes to flee.

"Everyone find some cover!" I yelled as I scanned the rooftops of the buildings for the sniper. "Now, gods dammit, get to cover!"

"Where's the sniper?" Piper asked over the screaming.

"Somewhere up high!" Clarisse said. "We've got to flush him out somehow."

"Leave that to me," Thalia snarled, pissed off beyond reason at the attack on Artemis.

She raised her spear and thunder rumbled above, the clear night turning dark with storm clouds. Lightning struck the buildings around us, caving in some of the structures. I scanned the rubble for any sign of a body or movement of any kind, but whoever the sniper was, he or she was a master at this.

"Keep it up!" I yelled to Thalia. "We've got to find him now!"

She let loose a battle cry at the clouds and the entire sky lit up with electricity. Lightning poured down and leveled the entire block from where the shot had come from. The immortal structures caved in the face of her anger, bricks of silver and gold falling down as she tried to either flush out the sniper or burry him alive in the rubble.

"There!" Percy shouted, pointing down the street.

Standing at the end of the street, amongst the screaming and panicking gods and spirits, was a single figure dressed in black. He was a very tall man, about six feet or so, and had a duffle bag slung over his back. He was dressed in black combat fatigues and combat boots with a strange backpack on his back. He had a ski mask on that obscured his face and head, but all I needed to see was the shiny silver pistol he had gripped in his right hand. He turned and looked at me directly, staring at the rifle in my hands before he looked me right in my eyes. And from his gaze, even from all the way at the end of the street, I knew he was the one who had fired that shot.

"There's the sniper!" I yelled to Thalia. "End of the street, the man in black!"

"Get him!" was the cry from the hunters as many of them charged forwards over the newly formed rubble.

Before I could warn them, the man raised his pistol and started shooting. Seven hunters fell before he reloaded, so I assumed he was using a very old pistol that didn't have a large magazine. He calmly slid a new magazine into the breach, chambered the bullet, and fired some more, walking backwards as he covered his own retreat. I was somewhat mesmerized by the sight; a sniper who could hold his own in full on combat with just a pistol! He casually fired a round here and there, forcing the advancing hunters to take cover and stop until he was done. Suddenly, I felt somebody slap me across the face. I blinked and realized that Clarisse had been shouting at me this whole time.

"Devin, fucking shoot him now!" she yelled as she ducked back to avoid a bullet.

"R-right," I said as I shouldered the M16A1 and started shooting.

The sniper flinched as my first three-round burst whined to his right because I fumbled with the rifle. He dove to his right, rolling over his shoulder as he moved off the street and dashed down an alley.

"Nice shot!" Thalia snarled sarcastically as she ran down the street after him.

I growled and charged after her. I needed to catch this fucker myself to regain my status. If I didn't, then I would be remembered as the guy who tried to stand up to par when his legs were too short to make it, meaning I would be seen as a faker and Drew would be proven right. And I would be damned if I let _that_ happen!

"Split up," Percy yelled as he, Leo, and Piper charged past the alley's entrance and down the street. "Try and cut him off before he can reach the elevator!"

"Okay," Clarisse yelled as she ran into another alleyway that led into the maze. "Devin, you and Thalia try and push him towards us."

"Wilco," I said and mentally smacked my forehead when I realized how stupid that sounded. But at least I hadn't said "have received your signal, understand it, and will comply."

I slipped past Thalia in the alley and ran ahead of her, firing at the sniper as he ducked through another alleyway. This time, my aim was better and I managed to coat his black combat vest with a layer of dust as the bullet struck the building directly a centimeter away from his shoulder.

"That was a warning shot!" I yelled as I charged after him again. "Stop now or I will shoot you!"

I realized how stupid that sounded a little too late. The sniper turned and leveled his silver pistol directly at my chest. I was dead, so very dead, and I knew it. His arm was perfectly level as he aimed down the sight with one hand, telling me he was a trained assassin sent by the Russians. But why shoot Artemis? Why not go for Zeus or the rest of the Big Three? He could have shot Hera and Juno and crippled the Roman's morale. But he picked Artemis…no, he _waited_ for Artemis. And now I was sure that this man, whoever he was, was not Sergey the Butcher. There was a new piece on the chessboard of war, but I didn't know how this one moved.

I tried to lift my assault rifle to my shoulder and make a stalemate with him, but his hand seemed to blur as he changed the pistol's direction and fired the one shot needed to kill me. I shut my eyes tight, but felt no pain. I looked down a second later and saw the hole in the pavement a literal millimeter from the toe of my boot. I lifted my hands away from the rifle and slowly bent down to put it on the ground, knowing I stood no chance against this guy.

"Okay, okay," I soothed. "I'm putting it down, see? I'm not going to HEY!"

As soon as my hand was off the rifle, the sniper turned and bolted, sprinting through the maze of alleyways of the Olympian palaces, disappearing around the bend of one corridor and out of sight. I looked behind me to call Thalia for backup, but I swallowed when I saw that I had lost her.

"Fuckin' Russky!" I cursed as I scooped up my rifle and dashed after him. "Get back here!"

I managed to catch up with him as he dashed through the city towards the edge of the mountain. Finally, I burst out of the maze of alleyways and saw him standing in a little open plaza with his back to me.

"Gotcha," I panted with a smile as I raised my M16 and aimed at the center of his back. "Drop…your gun…now."

He turned to face me and my eyes opened wide with fear. Pinned in an arm bar choke-hold against his chest was Clarisse in a classic hostage position. His forearm was in front of her throat, cutting off her air circulation. She was struggling in his grip, but she couldn't get enough air to put up enough of a fight to tear his arm away. But what scared me most was the fact that he had his pistol to her temple.

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(Pyotr Veliky)

The American girl was strong, I noted as she kept clawing at my arm in front of her throat. She wasn't hurting me, but I didn't have the time to deal with it.

"Don't move," I told her sternly, pressing the barrel of the Tokarev into her temple harder.

She didn't understand Russian, so she just kept fighting. The boy in front of me with the rifle just aimed directly at my head as I started backing up, looking around to find another way out of this little plaza. There was no other entrance or exit, so my only option was to climb over the walls and run along the rooftops, which would expose me unless I could get back into the "safety" of the alleyways. The boy yelled something at me, his arms noticeably shaking as he pointed his gun at me. I knew I could kill him with just a single move of my arm. One bullet was all it took, and I had plenty to spare secured safely inside the duffle bag slung over my shoulder. But I just couldn't do it. I couldn't kill this boy, who looked like he was my age, like that.

"So," I told him, speaking freely since I was sure he didn't know Russian. "Why are you so special? Why can't I bring myself to shoot you? I mean…I could kill anyone else on here on this mountain of demons no problem and sleep fine. But you…you are different. Why is that?"

He yelled some more in English and walked forwards, not understanding me at all.

"What is your past like?" I asked him. "Who have you lost, American? Who was taken from you and who can you never ever forgive for taking them? And would you be willing to go to and burn forever in hell just to take their life in payment for those taken from you?"

He yelled a single commanding word, his eyes burning bright with an anger that I knew all too well from experience.

"Is it her?" I asked, looking down at the blonde girl against my chest. "Is she the one who drives you?"

His expression told me everything I needed to know. I smiled behind my ski mask and slightly lowered the Tokarev away from her temple.

"I won't kill her," I said. "You can relax, Comrade. Everything is fine now."

I hesitated at my choice of words. I had called him "comrade" because it felt right to address him like that. Even though he was an American and a half-breed of a demon, and thus he was my enemy, I found him easy to identify with. I was still confused at why he was like this to me…almost like a good friend of mine that I had known my entire life. I shook my head and made up my mind. I needed to find out why he was like that, and to do so I would need to speak with him in private. I opened my mouth and tried to force the strange American words that I had learned from that tourist book out of my mouth.

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(Devin Longhart)

I felt my heartbeat slow down as the Russian finished speaking and brought his pistol away from Clarisse's head. I let out the breath I hadn't known I was holding and relaxed my stance enough so that I didn't have a muscle cramp. The Russian didn't lower his gun or relax his stance as such, but he did something I didn't expect.

"Good…evening," he said in a thick Russian accent. "How are you?"

"How am I?" I blinked and recoiled with surprise. "How am I? Who the fuck are you?"

The Russian blinked and shook his head. "I sorry, I not understand," he stuttered. "My English is no good."

"Why are you here?" I asked, taking a cautious step forwards.

"To…get…even," he said slowly, coaching himself through the words.

"With who?" I asked.

"Artemis," he said. "She…tell Minos…to come. He kill my family and he kill Tania. I come here to…"

"To shoot her?" I asked. "To get revenge?"

He nodded and I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Who are you?" I asked him again, readjusting the grip I had on my rifle.

"What your name?" he asked.

"Devin," I said, not wanting to do anything stupid at all.

"You have other name?" he asked.

"My middle name is Stephan," I shrugged.

He smiled behind the mask, the contours of his face moving behind the black fabric.

"Privet, Devin Stepanovich," he said. "My name…Pyotr Veliky. I want to talk to you. You meet me in Tobolsk in one week, da?"

"What?" I was confused even more now. A second ago, he's shooting at me. Now he's asking me for a fucking play date? "Why me?"

"I tell you at Tobolsk," he said. "In one week, da?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," I said. "One week from now, in Tobolsk."

"Also," he said. "Only you come. No one else come, okay?"

"Got it," I said and jerked my head at Clarisse. "Not let her go."

He nodded and let go of Clarisse, pushing her forwards at me. I dropped my rifle and caught her with both arms, the gun discharging a bullet as it hit the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the sniper, Pyotr, scaling the walls of the buildings like an insect, swinging himself over the top of roof and out of sight. I heard Thalia yell something from the alleyway behind me as she, Percy, Leo, Piper, and a small group of hunters rushed in to fill the plaza.

"We heard the shot," Percy said. "Where's the sniper?"

"He jumped the roof," I said and followed up with a lie. "He had Clarisse hostage, so I fought with him off and fired at him."

"And now he's gone," Thalia said. "Good going, death boy. You just lost the only possible lead we had on what the Russians plan to do now."

The rest of the hunters murmured with agreement, one of them even spitting down at me as I laid Clarisse on her back. Pyotr had choked her unconscious, so she knew nothing of our conversation. I looked at the wall that Veliky had climbed over and scowled. I decided that I would meet him in one week from now like he asked. Then, I would bring him back and drop him in front of the Olympian council so I could regain my fucking honor. But first, I had to get to this Tobolsk place and catch the bastard…and make him pay for this humiliation.

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(Pyotr Veliky)

I was grinning like a madman as I ran across the rooftops. They had abandoned their hunt for me completely after I had escaped that little plaza. Now was the supposed "fun" part of my mission: parachuting down and returning to Russia. I needed time to get back, rest a little, and then go to Tobolsk to talk to Devin Stepanovich. I needed to know if he was an enemy or a friend. He could have shot me in the face saved the girl and that would be that. But he had hesitated and put both his life and the girl's life in my hands. Did I give him that strange feeling as well? I would find that out at Tobolsk.

I stopped periodically to make sure I wasn't being followed or to hide from a passing American or demon patrolling the streets for me. The funny thing was that there was hardly anyone patrolling this area. They must think I'm stupid enough to try and use the elevator again to go back down and must have amassed every single guard and soldier they had at the elevator door. Ha! That's why I had brought a parachute with me.

I jumped off the roofs and ran to the edge of the cloud city. I looked down at the city of New York, all lit up with lights and the sound of cars honking even this late at night. It was a sight to behold, and I would have enjoyed it if I hadn't been ambushed by a pair of snakes.

The pair of bright green reptiles wound themselves around my legs and sunk their teeth into the black mesh of my cargo pants. Their teeth didn't go through the thick fabric, but they still had one hell of a bite.

"Ow! Fucking hell!" I swore and grabbed at one of them.

I grabbed the small reptile around its tail **(A/N: Which is also its whole body WTF if that about?) **and yanked it off me. Its teeth came out, but it just slithered down my arm and bit at my face. I grabbed it again before it could get close and threw it away drawing my knife and slashing at the back of the one still trying to bite through my pants. It made a strange hiss-scream and dropped from my body as my knife ran through the scales of its back, quickly slithering away into the shadows. I kept my knife out and held it in the same slashing position, my eyes darting around the shadows in case they decided to come back for another go.

Suddenly, something pressed against my back and a burst of electricity shot through my body and I was pushed back away from the edge. My hands clenched reflexively as I screamed, thinking maybe that girl with the spear had found me. The shock brought me to my hands and knees as I panted, trying to clear the fog that had set in over my head. I managed to roll over onto my back, my body still tingling with a residual electrical charge, and looked up at my assailant. It was the god who wore the strange hat and shoes with the wings on them. He was looking down on me with a neutral expression as he hefted a strange metal pole that looked like some kind of cattle prod.

"Ow…" I moaned as I scooted backwards towards the edge of the city.

The demon-god walked forwards and held the cattle prod in my face. The warning was clear: don't move a muscle or I will fry you. I nodded and swallowed as a spark jumped from the tip and hit my nose. My right hand moved up to my belt and slid the knife back into its sheath before going up in surrender. The god nodded and reached down to pick me up by my shoulder, but what he hadn't seen was my left hand reaching around my back to draw my pistol again. He lifted me up and a pair of bronze shackles appeared in his hand. I pretended to be exhausted from his attack and fell over as he tried to put one of the cuffs on me. I fell to my knees and transferred the Tokarev to my right hand under my body as he reached down to pick me back up again. And as soon as I was level with his side, I jammed the pistol into the fleshy part of his waist and fired. The DU round made a wet "thud" in his flesh as golden blood spilled from the hole. He cried out in pain and surprise, dropped the cattle prod, the cuffs, and me as he clutched his side. I fired again, hitting him in the chest and making another hole. But he still refused to fall over, so I fired again, putting the remaining four rounds in the magazine into his leg, shoulder, stomach, and foot (yes, I shot a god in the foot). He toppled over in pain as I turned and ran for the edge of the mountain. A bolt of white energy flew past me from behind as a woman in a white dress with an owl perched on her shoulder ran out of the alleyway behind me, shouting something to the air as I ran off the edge of the mountain and into the weightlessness of the sky.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" I screamed as I free-fell from what felt like to be six miles up.

I tumbled head over heels as I fell towards earth, screaming my lungs out as G-force pounded my face. The lights of the city below flashed brighter and brighter as I got closer and closer. This was way higher than the Urals, I noted to myself as I kept screaming. I remembered my parachute, smacked my head and found the ripcord on my shoulder. I wrapped my fingers around the handle and gave it a good hard yank. There as a small bang from the pack as the chute opened and a jerk from behind as it stopped my fall. I panted hard as I drifted down past the needle of the Empire State Building and listened to the echo of my terrified scream echoing around the building and through the streets below.

"That was nekulturniy," I scolded myself for my childish screams. _(Meaning 'uncultured,' but it is really an insult.)_

I hit the street a second or two later and shrugged off my chute. I ran around to the other side of the Empire State Building and peeked around the corner to where the door was. There was no one there on the sidewalk, so I walked around the corner, needing to get my suitcase from where I'd left it in the lobby. But it turns out; it wasn't going to be as easy as I thought. There were five of the silver-clad girls scattered throughout the lobby, waiting with bows drawn and aimed at the elevator. To get my clothes, I would either have to sneak by all of them (impossible) or kill them all to get my bag (likely to get me killed). Plus, my knife was useless against a ranged weapon and I had no silencer for my Tokarev. Any shots would attract attention, from them or from the police of New York. But it would be easier to kill them all than try to go through airport security wearing combat fatigues with bloodstains on them. I sighed and reloaded my pistol before I slowly pushed open the door to the lobby.

I leveled the pistol at the girl closest to me, aimed at the center of her back, and fired. She toppled over dead, but her comrades whirled around fired their arrows at me. I dove to my left and rolled behind a stone bench as one of them sank into the wall where I had been standing, a tiny red light flashing from the arrowhead.

"GOVNO!" I yelled and covered my head as the arrow exploded and unleashed a hail of broken glass as the shockwave shattered the windows. _(SHIT!)_

As soon as the glass storm had stopped, I peeked up from behind my cover and fired two shots at the one who had shot that arrow-bomb. I hit her in the stomach, the DU round making a loud blast and a big hole in her gut. I turned the pistol on the remaining four and shot at them, trying to force them to take cover while I scooted around to get my suitcase. I lost count of how many bullets I fired and how many times I reloaded, but I somehow managed to kill another one of them from behind cover, the depleted uranium bullets shattering the marble corners like they were made of thin glass. I finally snatched up my suitcase and grabbed its handle. I stood up and checked the clip in my pistol, which was the last magazine I had. I had two shots left and one huntress to kill from behind cover. I scowled at my bad luck and dashed for the door, trying to escape without her knowing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her spin out from behind her cover and leveled an arrow at me. Time slowed down as I raised my pistol at her, still running for the door. I saw her blink in slow motion as she released her grip on the bowstring and let the arrow fly. My finger clenched and the Tokarev spat a jet of fire at her. The bullet and the arrow slowly passed each other as I kept running in slow motion. Time still seemed to be slow as I watched the silver arrow fly past me as if it was traveling through amber, the edge of the tip narrowly grazing my ear through the ski mask. She on the other hand, took the bullet to the stomach, her skin and clothes rippling as the DU round made impact. She toppled backwards, gasping and clutching her stomach as blood flowed through her clothes and pooled around her onto the floor.

Time resumed normal speed and I stopped where I stood, looking at her as she lay dying on the floor. She was gasping and convulsing as the bullets slowly killed her. It broke my heart to see someone die that way, slowly tortured by a fatal wound dealt by a gun. I holstered my pistol and walked over to her as she scooted backwards up against the wall, cradling her abdomen. She gasped and looked at me with fear, real fear, shining from her eyes. I felt my eyes burn with the need to cry over her death, as she had died for a murderer. It was sickeningly ironic, to die trying to protect a killer or innocents.

I knelt by her side and gently moved her hands away from her wound. Her silver gown was bloody and obscured her wound, so I grabbed the hem of it and tore it away from her stomach. The bullet wound was not pretty at all. The small-caliber bullet had punctured her skin and tissue like a nail being driven through a piece of wood. It was messy and she was losing a lot of blood very quickly. There was no hope for her. I hung my head and replaced the fabric over her wound.

"I am sorry," I told her, speaking English so she could understand me.

She gurgled something inaudible as she convulsed again, a small river of blood flowing over her lips. Her eyes showed fear, like any rational person would when they faced death. But there was a strange pleading in her eyes that somehow crossed the language gap between us.

_Help me_, she seemed to say.

I drew my knife and showed it to her. "You want no pain?" I said.

She nodded and moved her head back to show her throat, gurgling on her own blood. Tears clouded my eyes as I cupped the back of her head to steady her. This strange American girl, who had tried to kill me a few seconds ago, was no asking me to end her suffering like I was a trusted friend. I brought the knife to her throat and pressed the edge to her skin. She gurgled again and nodded once, telling me that I could go ahead. I nodded back and slit her throat cleanly, a drop of her blood mixing with one of my tears as it fell from my eyes. I watched as she smiled and her body went limp against my hand, happy to die like this.

I stood up and howled at the ceiling in anger. Why did I have to kill innocent humans for my revenge? Why did people have to die for what those demons told them to do? Perhaps I could ask this to Devin Stepanovich when he came to Tobolsk and saw for himself what had happened to my Comrades on Artemis's order. I wiped my eyes, pushing the tears into the fabric of my ski mask and crossed myself after what had happened.

I had spent a few days in Soilkamsk after the battle and had attended church with Comrade Father and the Rochev family. Comrade Father had even baptized me as a Christian privately and said that I was always welcome to come to him in Soilkamsk for a drink or a chat. I had also read the Russian Eastern Orthodox bible and knew that god would take care of this girl as well as the others who had died in my revenge against Artemis. While I wasn't completely religious by definition, since I had to kill to avenge my family, I did hold a great deal of respect for its beliefs.

I wiped the blood from my knife and stood straight up, looking at the security camera. I drew my pistol for the last time that night and aimed at the lens. I shot it and holstered my now-empty pistol. I looked back at the carnage, at the bodies of the five hunters who had lost their lives, at the pools of blood covering the floor. I was so sorry that they had died when it wasn't necessary for them to.

"Please forgive me, Father," I asked god, "for I have sinned and taken innocent lives in my anger."

And with that, I walked through the broken glass door and down away from this scene of death, hearing the wail of sirens as the police came to the scene. But by the time they got there, I would be long gone.

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(Devin Longhart)

(Olympus)

(Ten Minutes After the Skirmish in the Lobby…)

I stood next to Percy in the center of the Olympian Council room. The noise level in here was unbearable, since every single god and goddess, except for Artemis and somehow Hermes was missing as well, was arguing about what to do. It was deafening to hear all this shouting and I felt like my ears were going to fucking fall off.

"ENOUGH!" Zeus thundered **(A/N: pardon the pun)** as he stood up and his master bolt flickered to life in his hand. "ALL OF YOU BE QUIET NOW!"

We all fell silent right that second and watched as he sat back down on his throne and rubbed his head.

"Now," he said. "Someone please tell me what has happened."

"Father," Athena stated. "Someone broke into Olympus, killed three people and used their bodies as bait in a trap that was meant for one of us. After that, he escaped the city, attacked Hermes and wounded him before he jumped from the edge of the mountain and parachuted down to the city"

"He set up his post in an observation tower that overlooked the plaza," Hephaestus said. "From there, he could have killed anyone without being seen."

"'Little punk used a Dragunov SVD to take the shot," Ares snarled. "He had a Tokarev TT-33 pistol with him as well, plus the knife that he used to kill the doorman and the hunters."

"So we know it was the Russians?" Zeus asked.

Nods from all around the chamber.

"How could this happen?" Hades asked. "Olympus is the most secure place on this planet? How could one man armed with a sniper rifle and a knife infiltrate this place, murder three people, shoot your own daughter in the head, brother, and then escape without a scratch leaving twelve more bodies in his wake?"

"They really do want war," Hera said.

"That is very clear at this point," Dionysus sighed, rolling a grape through his fingers.

"Apollo," Poseidon asked. "How is Artemis?"

The god of medicine shook his head. "She is in a really bad state," he said.

"She can't die, right?" I asked Percy under my breath. "I mean, it takes more than a bullet to the head to kill a goddess."

"Shhh!" he said.

"That's not what I meant," Apollo scowled at me, somehow hearing my whispers. "My sister is very weak right now, and I've only managed to keep her from going into a coma."

"How is this possible?" Demeter trilled. "Have the Russians discovered a way to kill us?"

"No, that is impossible without them using that Stalin Bomb of theirs," Zeus said.

"Whoever this sniper is," Apollo continued, "he used a bullet forged from depleted uranium to shoot my sister. He used smaller-caliber ones on Hermes as he escaped. For some reason, the uranium blocks our powers of healing and weakens us if we are hit. Hermes was shot seven times with these bullets and passed out as Athena called for help. Artemis was shot with a larger one, designed to pierce armor, if Ares has told me right. Taking a bullet like that to the head almost forced her into the coma. But what's worrying me is that her powers have been endangered."

"Explain," Aphrodite said, leaning forwards on her throne.

"My sister is the goddess of the hunt," Apollo said. "It is her job to find and destroy creatures that endanger the balance of nature. But this sniper managed to hunt _her_, damaging her powers beyond my own healing abilities."

He settled back in his chair and looked at his feet. "My sister's powers are not working and she can't heal herself," he said. "And there is a small chance that this could force Artemis…to fade."

Silence.

"He left this note in the doorman's hand," Apollo said, taking out a small scrap of paper, which looked like a dust speck in his massive hand. "I've managed to translate it with Athena's help."

"What does it say?" Aphrodite asked.

"_The game begins,_" he said. "It is clear that this man will come back for my sister. And he will not stop hunting her until she fades completely."

"What can we do to save her?" Hades asked.

"We need to find the sniper," Apollo said. "If he gives up his hunt for her, then she'll come back."

The council exploded into a frenzy of plans of how to find this man. But I was the only one who knew where he was going. That place called Tobolsk, probably somewhere isolated inside Russia. I could tell them where Pyotr Veliky was going, probably save Artemis's life. But I would be breaking my promise. He hadn't killed me and he had let Clarisse go, and just asked to talk to me. And I had agreed to it, hadn't I? If I went back on it, he could come after me and Clarisse next…collect what he was supposed to get, right? That's the fucking thing with promises; the ones that count will save your life, and the ones you break will get you killed.

"Devin," Zeus's voice shook me from my thoughts.

"Y-yes Lord Zeus?" I asked, getting the feeling that I was in deep shit.

"Thalia tells me that you were the last one to see him besides Hermes," he said. "Did he say anything that would give us a clue to his motives or who sent him? Did he say anything at all that would help?"

I swallowed, knowing that this Veliky guy could kill me in more painful ways than being smited.

"He had Clarisse hostage," I said, knowing I had to tell a version of the truth so I wouldn't get caught lying. "He forced me to drop my gun, just motioning with it not saying anything. Then he shoved her at me and climbed the wall before I could pick up my gun and shoot him."

Zeus nodded and sat back on his throne. "Well, first we must attend to the dead," he sighed. "For the hunters who lost their lives against this assassin, we must honor them with Elysium."

Hades nodded and typed something on his phone, probably orders for Charon or my dad.

"Then we must rebuild what was destroyed and fortify ourselves against further invasion," he said, looking at Athena. "Bring Annabeth up here and start the rebuilding."

The council nodded and dispersed, leaving me alone in the huge room with my anger. That fucking sniper had pretty much destroyed my life and nearly killed the girl I loved, even though she was with someone else. He'd had the advantage this time, with more guns and more tactics than I'd had. But when I met him one week later at Tobolsk, things would be different. I turned and walked out towards the Olympian armory, the list of equipment I would need already forming in my head.

**WOW…SO NOW THINGS ARE COMING TOGETHER. NEXT TIME: THE MEETING AT TOBOLSK AND THE TRUTHS OF WAR ARE REVEALED. SPEAKING OF IT, SOME OLD FACES ARE GOING TO RETURN TO THE PLAYING FIELD. WHO WILL THEY BE? NEXT TIME, IN THE BEAR AND THE EAGLE!**


	9. Tobolsk Horrors

Chapter 9: Tobolsk Horrors

**PRIVET, TOVARICH'S AROUND THE WORLD! HERE'S IS THE NEW CHAPTER! AS PROMISED, I HAVE SOME OLD FACES INCULDED AS WELL AS SOME NEW ONES. WHO ARE THEY? READ AND FIND OUT FOR YOURSELVES! **

**AS AN ADDED NOTE, I AM STILL ACCEPTING OC CHARACTERS FOR THE STORY SINCE I NEED SOME KICK-ASS SOLDIERS TO COMBAT THE RUSSIANS. THEY CAN BE DEMIGODS, MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURES, OR MORTALS WHO HAVE KNOWLEDGE OF THE IMMORTAL WORLD OF RICK RIORDAN. I REALLY NEED SOME CHARACTERS, SO PLEASE SUBMIT SOME! **

**A/N: SOMETHING YOU NEED TO KNOW: CAPTAIN NIKOLAY B. GORSHKOV DOES NOT KNOW ABOUT THE GODS AND MONTERS OR THE DEMIGODS, HE WAS JUST ORDERED TO SINK THE ****_DENALI_**** AND IS VERY LOW ON THE CHAIN OF COMMAND INSIDE THE POLITBURO. HE IS "IN THE DARK" SO TO SPEAK, ON THIS MATTER. AT LEAST, HE IS FOR NOW…**

(Captain First Rank Nikolay Borissovich Gorshkov)

(Sochi, Southern Russian Federation)

(Two Days after Veliky's Attack…)

I opened my eyes as the bright sunlight touched them and woke me. I yawned and rolled out of bed, enjoying the warm climate and bright sunlight after spending weeks and weeks in the freezing hell out in the North Pacific, conducting drills and overseeing the repairs done to the _Stalingrad. _I walked over to the bathroom and turned on the tap to wash the sleep from my face.

One week ago, I had received a letter from Moscow. In it were the personal congratulations of Admiral Ustinov, in regards to my recovery of our Stalin Bomb. He said that I was a model officer in the Russian Navy and that we needed more men with my 'tactical genius,' as he put it. I'd scoffed at that statement. What Russian Navy? Aside from the Stalingrad, all we had on the seas were a few missile subs, a couple of destroyers, and maybe one or two aircraft carriers. We had no navy, we had a floating joke! Even my own ship contained more obsolete junk than new equipment! How could the man in charge of our own navy be so blind? If we were threatened by the Chinese or the Americans, our Navy and Air Force would be the first to engage. We barely had any aircraft left after what happened down in Chechnya and most of our ships were rusting away in their dry docks and the submarines we had were leaking radiation from their reactors up in Murmansk.

And I did not understand the fuss about the entire ordeal with the _Denali_ anyway. So they had stolen a nuke, big deal! We sold off our old atomic devices like we sold off our caviar. I had been informed that the Stalin Bomb was a prototype thermonuclear device and was of high importance to the government. So what? We would sell ourselves to make a quick ruble if we had to. What was the deal with a ship commanded by a few children with a bomb that turned out to be nothing but a few scraps and wires, anyway?

As my reward, I had been given three month's leave and my own personal dacha in Sochi, where the air was always warm. To a sailor of the Pacific Fleet (what little of it there was), warm climate and beaches were a welcomed change from ice-choked seas and snowstorms _(an apartment)_. And while this was all very nice, I was still angry. Ustinov is wasting money on me, money that could spent on our defenses. The Greeks had sent an army into Siberia and massacred an entire town, far out of range of my guns. Thanks to Pyotr Veliky, we had stopped the assault that was intended to go to Moscow. All of Russia was crying for a war. I had seen pictures and newscasts of college students camping outside the Greek Embassy in Moscow with signs and slogans, riots breaking out daily with the police actually helping the students, not trying to calm them. Everyone wanted war, and no one had seen the photos of Tobolsk so we all assumed it had been a worse massacre than at Auschwitz, the Winter Palace, and the Palestinian Refugee Camps. We all wanted a war, even I wanted to sail to Greece and level their ports with the _Stalingrad_'s guns. But we all knew that we were ill-equipped for a war of any kind.

A knock on my door got my attention and I walked over, dressed in nothing but a bathrobe with an undershirt and some boxer underneath. I opened the door and to my great surprise, it was Grushavoy who had knocked.

"Good morning, Comrade Captain," he said, removing his officer's cap.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," I said as I stepped aside and allowed him inside. "I thought you were back with the ship?"

"Da, I was," he said, wiping some sweat off his brow. His thick black naval uniform was not suited for this warm climate. "But there's something that is more important than that right now."

"Oh?" I asked as I stepped into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

"Yes, Captain," he said, looking nervous. "Well, do you remember when I said you would be named Hero of the Soviet Union for the battle with that supertanker?"

"Da," I laughed. That was a popular joke nowadays. The Soviet Union was dead and the glory of it had passed away alongside it, so many sailors and soldiers in what was left of our military forces often joked about being named a hero when we had none to name. "What about it?"

"This arrived for you two days ago," he said, passing me a small jewelry box as I walked out, my toothbrush still in my mouth. "I must confess that I looked at it when it arrived. That is why I came here to tell you."

I turned the box over in my hands once, looking for some kind of inscription. I found none and shrugged as I opened it, thinking it could not be that bad. My heart stopped as I looked down at what lay inside. My toothbrush fell as my jaw dropped in amazement. Inside the box was a single star-shaped medal. The medal was secured to a pin with a strip of red cloth across it. My hands were shaking as I lifted the medal from the box and held it in the center of my palm.

"Is this real?" I asked Grushavoy.

He nodded. "Congratulations, Comrade Captain," he said. "You are now officially a Hero of the Soviet Union."

"So we are returning to the old regime?" I asked, still in shock about receiving the medal.

"That must be happening," he said with a grin as I put the highest military honorary decoration in the USSR back in its box. "You know, my father once told me that the entire world shook with fear at the thought of our military."

"And it will shake once again," I said.

If we were going to re-become the Soviet Union, the government must have the resources and the money to rebuild our military to its full strength. And if we did that, then the orders would come to take back the satellite states and rebuild the wall we had created to protect ourselves from an invasion to the west. The next plan would be to, of course, invade the Balkans and put our army there on standby. After we had a sufficient invasion force stationed there, then it was on to Greece for revenge. But first the politics would have to be settled, the usual impossible demands for the Greeks to reject and war to be declared. But this time it would be a war that we would win.

"Have a drink with me," I said as I moved over to the liquor cabinet and grabbed the first bottle of vodka I could find.

"I must really get back to Vladivostok, Comrade," he said. "I should not even be here to tell you this."

"I'm not asking, Grushavoy," I grinned. Rank did have its privileges.

He grinned back and took two glasses from the cupboard. I poured us both a healthy amount, one that would ward off even the coldest Siberian storm. As we lifted our glasses, I looked over at the medal sitting in its box and chuckled.

"The world will indeed shake again," I said.

"That it will, Comrade Captain," Grushavoy said as he raised his glass to mine. "With men like us at the helm of our war machine, the Greeks will fall before us at sea."

"Then here's to our war at sea," I said as we both threw back our vodka like real Russian sailors should.

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(Devin Longhart)

(Camp Half-Blood, New York)

My life was now shitty as hell.

After Olympus, everyone blamed me for Pyotr's escape, even though both Athena and Hermes had both failed to catch him, and my public image was destroyed. Everyone called me out on literally everything, even if I wasn't doing anything wrong. I'd been angry before, but now I was feeling like using my powers to get some peace and quiet, provided that there was someone here who had a wicked soul. Naturally, there was no one like that here. But I knew where I could find someone who fit the bill just right: the very same person who caused this to happen. Pyotr Veliky.

It was really late out as I rolled off my bed and started packing. I needed to leave by stealth so I wouldn't be stopped, forced to tell them the truth, and be left behind while they sent Thalia after Veliky. I was going to find him myself, force him to abandon his hunt for Artemis, and then drag his ass back to New York for the gods to interrogate him. I had done nothing but research and prepare for this moment for the last two days. I had raided the Olympian armory before we had come back, grabbing everything I would need for this op. I had taken a lot of things; numerous attachments for my rifle, an m203 rifle-mounted grenade launcher with plenty of ammunition for it, a bayonet that doubled as a combat knife, flashbangs, a USP .45 pistol, and a radio with a direct globe wide link to the transmitter set I had in my cabin. When I had Veliky, I would use it call back to camp for an extraction team. I had also managed to snag a pretty cool necklace that served as a universal translator, in case I needed to fast-talk my way out of a meeting with some law enforcement personnel.

I quickly grabbed my gear from where I had stowed it away, hiding it from prying eyes by disassembling it and hiding the pieces all around my cabin. I grabbed my rifle bag and started reassembling my gear, putting the weapons together in less than five minutes. I secured everything, attached the grenade launcher to my rifle, put on the white snow camouflage that I would wear to Russia, and then walked for the door.

There was no one outside at this hour, not even the harpies, so I was free and clear to take my "walk." I had called up one of my mom's old contacts, a retired soldier who had served in the Gulf War with her. He'd been an Army Ranger and the two of them had crossed paths quite a few times on active duty. He'd become a pilot after he retired and he had agreed to fly me out to a remote airstrip in Siberia he knew that would be under the radar of the KGB's Border Guards. After that, I had a map that would lead me to this place called "Tobolsk," and right to Veliky. Silently, I ran past the guard dragon around Thalia's Tree and down the road where I had told the man to meet me. My pack and rifle bag weighted me down a little bit, but I kept running, my breath making white clouds in the cold air outside the camp's magic boundary.

Sure enough, he was there. The black SUV was waiting with its headlights on and illuminating the road so he could see me. My mom's friend, David, stepped out of the driver's seat and shone a flashlight at me.

"Star!" he called.

"Texas!" I hollered the counter-reply as I jogged up to him.

"Damn, Devin," he said, looking me over. "You've grown a lot."

I nodded and walked around the passenger's seat. "Ready to move?" I asked him.

"Hoorah," he nodded. "You're family know you're doing this?"

"'Don't have a family anymore," I told him as I opened my bag and showed him the gear I had stowed there. "And if I did, they sure as hell would say no."

He gave a low whistle. "You going after Sammy's killer?" he asked, addressing my mom by her nickname.

I shook my head. "It's personal," I said.

He left it at that and started the car, whistling a tune as we pulled out onto the road. A few minutes later he suddenly squinted up ahead and killed the headlights.

"Put'cher ski mask on," he said.

"Why?"

"There's a roadblock set up a few hundred feet in front of us," he said. "I'm assuming they're friends of yours and you'd rather not talk to them."

I nodded and slid the white mask over my face as he put the headlights back on and drove ahead. Just as he said, there was a roadblock, manned by a small group of hunters. One of them, I think her name was Phoebe, stepped in front and put her hand up for us to stop.

"Get out of the car, you spy!" she called. "Come now and we will treat you with the mercy that a man like you deserves!"

David looked at me. "Is she serious?" he asked.

I shrugged and opened my bag, handing him a flashbang. "Go ahead," I told him, covering my ears as he opened the door.

"Hey!" he yelled at Phoebe, using a tone that suggested he was drunk. "Fuck you, ya little bitch!"

He hurled the flashbang and there was a giant flash and a bang, just as the name suggests. The hunters screamed and ran, blinded by the sound and noise. David and I had looked away and covered our ears, so we weren't affected. He gunned the engine and the SUV bulldozed the small snow roadblock in half and raced down the road into the night.

"We have how much time until they send backup?" he asked.

"Maybe three minutes or so until they can call," I shrugged.

"We'll be at the airfield in half an hour," he said. "Get some sleep, I'll wake you when."

I nodded and pulled my mask off, reclining my seat all the way. "Hey David?" I said.

"What's up, kid?" he asked.

"Thanks," I said. "For saying you'll fly me out to Russia."

He laughed. "Kid, you wouldn't believe how many times your mom saved my ass back in The Gulf," he said. "Something around thirty-two times or so, I think. Well, I'm sick of being a normal guy and I can't pay Sammy back for those recues. Besides, I miss the action of combat, the suicide missions that I'm most likely to come back from in a body bag with a medal strapped to my corpse. So here's my chance to relive that action, and I wouldn't miss it for the world."

He patted my head. "Now get some sleep," he said. "You're gonna need it."

I nodded and closed my eyes, dreaming of gently falling snow on a moonlit battlefield where war never ended.

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(Captain First Rank Nikolay Borissovich Gorshkov)

(Sochi, South Russia)

(The Next Day…)

I noticed that I'd been happier than usual then when I was on vacation. Sochi was nice, but being named the first Hero of the Soviet Union since 1990 was better. I was itching to wear my dress uniform with that star pinned right above my heart, like how a child wants to show off a new toy he got for Christmas to his friends. Well, tonight was my night. There was a dinner party and a dance being held at the resort where I had my dacha, a very high-end society thing for the upper class. Well, I had been invited because of my rank and since it was a black-tie dinner, the only thing I had that was presentable was my naval dress uniform. It would certainly get me some attention, and the very prestigious medal that I had now would help me.

I checked my watch. I had an hour until the party started and the residents of the resort would arrive. And during that time, I would prepare myself. Right away, I dashed to the bathroom and turned on the water before I stopped myself to take a breath.

"Relax," I told myself. "You're acting like a teenaged girl going on her first date. Start acting like an officer."

I waited until the bathroom was clouded in a thick layer of steam before I stepped into the shower. The water was boiling, just as I liked it. But it was a few minutes before my body had adjusted to the temperature. I washed myself thoroughly and efficiently, making sure that my skin was clean and free of any kind of spots before I got out. I applied some deodorant and combed my hair before I took my uniform out from its place in the closet and got dressed. The black fabric was slightly heavy, but much lighter than the coat I usually wore while I was on duty. My cuffs were adorned by the two bars and single star, the insignia of a Captain First Rank, and my chest was heavily adorned with stripes and other citations. I walked to the mirror and took my newest medal out. The star was very light, I noticed, as I pinned it to my chest. I squinted at my appearance in the mirror, brushing off my jacket and straightening the Hero of the Soviet Union on my chest. I nodded at my appearance and grabbed my black officer's cap from the dresser, putting it on and adjusting it so it fit right. After that, I was sure of my appearance and walked out into the empty hallway.

I walked into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. The machine dropped under my feet and dinged a second later when it hit the floor. I walked out into the lobby and straightened my posture as I walked through the room, feeling the gaze of the people there fixate on my uniform. I smiled to myself. This was going even better than I thought. I walked out through the lobby of the hotel and onto the path that led to the rest of the resort, including the ballroom where the dinner party was being held.

As I walked up to the door, the hotel manager saw me and his eyes lit up with surprise at the number of decorations on my chest. I nodded to him as I took my invitation out from my jacket pocket and stepped into the line to be seated. The crowd was full of older men and women, all of them dressed well. There were a few younger women and young men my age, but they were too absorbed in their own worlds and cell phones. The line moved quickly and soon I was standing in front of the manager with my invitation in hand.

"Good evening…Mr. Gorshkov," he said, looking at my invitation for my name.

"The same to you, Comrade," I told him with a smile.

"May I ask you a question?" he said. "What do those insignias on your sleeves mean?"

"Captain First Rank," I said. "I am the commanding officer on the battlecruiser _Stalingrad._"

He was surprised again as he ushered me inside. "I do hope you enjoy yourself, Captain," he said.

"I'm sure I will," I told him as I walked over to the nearest waiter carrying some champagne. Honestly, I never liked the stuff. It's too bubbly and weak for me. But I couldn't just have a few shots of vodka in a crowd like this, could I?

I took a glass and sipped it. It tasted fine, and I tried not to cough on the bubbles as I looked around the room. It was nicely lit and decorated, with the dance floor occupied with a few older couples, dancing to the band as they played classical music. I think it was a waltz of some sort.

I finished my champagne and found my seat. The band finished playing their waltz and then began a piece of classical music I knew from my childhood. It was called _Petrushka,_ by the famous Russian composer, Igor Stravinsky. My father had loved it, since it was his and my mother's first dance together. I'd wake up with them playing it and dancing in the living room together so many times that I knew it by heart. I smiled and thought of my family up in St. Petersburg. I hadn't seen my mother or my father since I became a captain two years ago. I supposed that I was overdue for a visit. Suddenly, the music stopped playing and I frowned. Was something wrong?

"Ladies and gentlemen," said the MC. "I would like to thank you all for coming to our little party tonight. We hope you enjoy yourselves."

There was clapping as the music started again and I relaxed. The manager came over to me and sat down across from me, smiling.

"So," he said. "It must be very exciting to be a captain, eh?"

"Only in war," I sighed, feeling nice about someone noticing. "Usually, I just conduct patrols and drills along our borders."

"Still, it must be fun to sail," he said.

"It is," I smiled. "If you don't mind the cold, that is."

He laughed and waved the waiter over. "Some vodka for the captain," he said.

"Spasiba," I said to him. "I must confess that I don't like champagne very much."

"It's fine," he said. "We are Russian, you and I. We drink vodka, not this crap."

I laughed as the waiter returned with a bottle and a pair of glasses.

"What is your ship like?" he asked as he poured us both a glass.

"She's very big," I said. "And she is armed to the teeth. A formidable opponent, I'll tell you that."

"Will you attack the Greeks if war is declared?" he asked me as I sipped my vodka.

"If I am ordered to," I shrugged. "But we do not go around shooting when we please. We must have our orders for that."

He nodded and looked back onto the dance floor. He suddenly perked and straightened his posture. He stood up and straightened his tie before motioning for me to follow him.

"I want you to meet someone," he smiled.

I followed him over to the edge of the dance floor, and over to a woman in a dress the color of a tropical sea. My heart began to race as I looked at her. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful person I had ever seen in all my twenty-nine years alive here on earth. Her black hair reminded me of the winter sky up in Siberia, the silky darkness that you could lose yourself in. Her skin had a glow to it, but she wasn't deeply tanned. It was as if she spent most of her time outside underwater, since I had seen combat divers who had that same skin quality after spending their entire careers diving. Her eyes were a deep liquid blue, a few shades darker than her dress. She was fairly tall, and decently proportioned, I should add. She could have been a model for some foreign fashion company. I realized I was staring and quickly corrected myself as I followed the manager over to her.

"Alice, you're back again?" the manager smiled widely at the woman.

She turned from the man she was speaking with and I noticed how her brows were slightly furrowed with frustration. Her expression then changed when she saw the manager, but her frustration just hid behind her eyes as she smiled at him.

"Yes, and it's good to be back here," she said, her Russian slightly accented. She noticed me standing behind him and raised an eyebrow. "Who is this?"

"Oh, yes, right," the manager cleared his throat as if he had forgotten me. "Alice, I'd like you to meet Captain First Rank Nikolay Borissovich Gorshkov. Captain, this is Alice Marina."

"How do you do?" I smiled and nodded to her.

"Fine, thank you," she said, and I could clearly hear the "go away now," tone in her voice. "So…_Captain_?"

"Da," I nodded, seeing that she was playing this conversation to get both me and the manager to leave her. "Your accent…British, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Sussex," she said. "I was born there."

"Your Russian is very good," I complemented. "It must have taken you some time to learn."

Another cold nod. "Your language is not an easy one, Captain," she said, sub textually ending the conversation.

She turned back to the manager. "Please excuse me," she said, "but I have to make a call."

"Of course, of course," he smiled and she walked away into the crowd.

He looked at me and smiled. "She's something isn't she?" he asked me.

"She is," I nodded.

"But she never talks to anyone," he sighed. "She's been coming here to Sochi ever since I became manager and I've only been able to get her to speak for at most five minutes."

"She seems angry," I pointed out.

"Does she?" he asked. "Well, I suppose most men only look at what they want to."

"Yourself included?" I asked.

He laughed good-naturedly at my joke. "If she had a thing for older men, then yes," he said. "She might like you, though."

"How can you tell?" I asked.

"Well, she spoke to you without me encouraging her," he said. "She's very proper and formal, yes, but none to that degree. If she can avoid a conversation, she will. But yet she chose to talk to you."

"Women are a mystery," I shrugged and adjusted my jacket. "Excuse me; I think I need some air."

"Of course," he smiled. "Dinner will be in two hours."

I thanked him and left the ballroom. I removed my cap and took a deep breath, smelling the saltwater that was coming off the waves down by the shore. I sighed and walked down towards the beach, feeling as if the sea air would do me some good. I walked past the pool deck and down to the boardwalk, my dress shoes making imprints in the sand as I left the resort.

As I walked down the beach, I paused and listened, hearing a voice from further down the shore. Curious, I walked towards the place where the sounds were coming from. I cautiously paused behind a pile of rocks that jutted from the sand, listening as the person continued on what sounded like a rant speaking in English. I recognized the voice and walked around the rocks where Alice was pacing back and forth in the sands, barefoot.

"Problem?" I asked.

She whirled around, an angry scowl on her face. I held up my hands and backed off.

"Forgive me if I intruded," I said. "It was not my intention."

She said something under her breath, no doubt an insult, before she faced me and spoke Russian.

"It's not nice to spy," she said.

"It's not nice to lie either," I told her.

"Pardon?" she sounded offended.

"You told us you were coming out here to make a call," I reminded her. "Well…I see no phone. If you needed some time to vent, you could have just said so."

"My life is none of your business," she said, haughtily.

"I suppose it isn't," I said. "But may I ask who you are so angry at?"

She sighed and sat down hard in the sand, obviously rich enough to buy another dress in case her current one got ruined by the sand or the waves.

"My husband," she said, showing me a pearl ring on her hand.

"I didn't know you were married," I said, seeing how strange it was that I hadn't noticed the ring before.

She laughed. "He must not know that either," she said.

I easily put two and two together and realized what she meant.

"Nekulturniy nakhal!" I swore.

She looked at me strangely. "I don't know the meaning of that phrase," she said.

"It means he is an uncultured pig," I explained. "It is an insult, but a man like him must take it like a complement."

She laughed again, the sound blending perfectly with the sound of the waves. "That he would," she smiled. "He is a disloyal, cheating bastard."

"How long has this been happening?" I asked.

"Ever since we got married," she sighed. "It's been a very long time since he and I actually spoke eye-to-eye."

She looked up at me. "Do you have a wife, Captain?" she asked.

"I am afraid not," I sighed. "I am a military man, and it's very cold up where I am stationed. I'm not sure it's a good place to start a family."

She smiled softly. "That's too bad," she said. "I could easily see you with a family."

I laughed. "So does my father," I said. "But I have my country first and my own life second."

"I know how you feel," she said. "With a duty that comes first."

The music from the ballroom began to get louder until I could hear it all the way out here.

"Every time my husband and I fight," she said, "I come here to Sochi to get some peace and quiet. He doesn't care, he just goes off to."

"I think I understand," I swallowed, not wanting the conversation to turn into something uncomfortable.

She smiled. "The world could certainly use more men like you, Captain," she said.

"Please," I said. "Call me Nikolay."

"Very well then…Nikolay," she said as I helped her stand up. "How long are you staying here at Sochi?"

"I have three months of shore leave," I said. "It started this week, so I have a lot of time."

"In that case," she said, offering me her hand. "Would you care to dance?"

"Wouldn't your husband get angry?" I asked.

"I don't think he'd even care to check," she grinned.

"Then yes," I said as I accepted her hand and stepped forwards through the sand into a dancing position, listening the faint sound of the music from inside the ballroom. "I would be honored to share this dance with you, Alice."

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(Annabeth)

(The Morning after Devin Ran [American Time])

I woke up to a series of quick knocks on my door. I groaned and rolled out of bed, still tired from all the re-designing I had been doing for the last few days with my mom. Apollo had healed my concussion so I could walk, but I would still get an occasional headache every now and then.

I opened the door to see Percy standing there, panting as if he was out of breath.

"'Something wrong?" I asked.

"Big time," he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me out the door.

We ran through the cabin area where campers were running around in all different directions, some carrying messages while others carried weapons. I started to get nervous as I began to see more weapons than scrolls.

"Are we under attack?" I asked as we stopped outside of Thantos Cabin.

Percy shook his head. "But it's almost that bad," he said as he pushed open the door where Thalia was sitting on Devin's bed with Phoebe standing next to her.

"Devin's gone," she said as she got up.

"What?" I exclaimed.

"He took off last night in a truck," Phoebe explained. "There was another man with him who threw some kind of grenade at us on the roadblock. But we had a hidden camera with us and we saw Devin in the passenger seat with a ski mask."

"So what are we dealing with?" I asked.

Percy sighed and stepped forwards. "So far we've only got one possibility," he said.

"Which is?" I asked.

"That Devin was a spy for the Russians," Thalia said. "He let that sniper go after he shot Lady Artemis and he missed his shots when he first fired at him. It explains why he wanted to go, to tell the sniper that we knew about his attack."

"So where is he now?" I asked, rubbing my head as a headache started, looking around the walls of the cabin for a clue.

"He could be anywhere by now," Thalia said. "But most likely he went to Russia to sell our secrets to the Soviets."

"Wait a second," I stopped her as I spied something on the wall. "What's this?"

"It's a map or Russia," Phoebe said.

"Yeah, but look here," I said, pointing to a town east of the Urals that had been circled in bright red ink. "That's not Moscow. This is Tobolsk."

I looked back at Percy. "Remember when I woke up and you showed me that newspaper article?" I asked. "It said that there was a boy named Pyotr Veliky who had survived a massacre at a town called Tobolsk and then got revenge by sniping the officers of the monsters who killed the people there."

"What are you getting at?" Phoebe asked as all of us crowed around the map pinned to the cabin wall.

"I'm saying that know we know who the sniper was," I said. "Pyotr Veliky. And I'll bet Devin is heading at Tobolsk to meet him."

"So he's going for revenge?" Thalia asked.

"It looks that way," Percy shrugged. "So we know where both of them are. What now?"

"Now we have to go to Tobolsk and find them," Thalia said. "Devin is way over his head if he's trying to capture Pyotr Veliky. He'll just snipe him from higher up and disappear until the Russians need him to shoot for them again. We need to bring Devin home and make sure he's with us, not them."

"Do we have a plane?" I asked.

"Leo mentioned something about one he bought after the _Denali _went down, yeah," Percy shrugged.

"Then tell him to fuel it up," I said. "We have a friend to save."

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(Devin Longhart)

(The Ural Mountains)

(Seven Days after Veliky…)

"Russia sucks," I said for the millionth time since I got here.

I'd spent the last few days hiking east through the Ural Mountains towards the place where Veliky had told me to meet him, Tobolsk. Even with spring approaching, the air here was still felt like December. I hated the nights the most, since that's when I felt like I would freeze.

David had dropped me off at the airfield a few days ago with a small tent and a small camp stove for the nights. He had wished me luck, but now I think he should have wished me a snowmobile. The days had been spent hiking through knee-deep snow, keeping my eyes open for Veliky and my ears open for the wolves. At night, I slept with the pistol under my pillow just in case, but that just added to my worries in case it accidentally went off and I shot myself in the head. I ended up getting maybe two hours of sleep per night and that just added to my dying sense of vengeance. I was actually getting close to giving up and just moving some place where I wouldn't be found, since I couldn't go back to camp now that I had "let the sniper go" as well as sneak out at night. Most likely I would be branded as a spy and thrown in some jail cell for a crime that I was trying to clear my name of.

I had just packed up my tent and moved on through the mountains when I heard someone shout from up high.

"Devin Stepanovich!"

I whirled around and readied my M16A1, my finger gripping the trigger on the grenade launcher as I tried to find the general area of where the shout came from.

"Veliky, show yourself!" I yelled, the translator working perfectly.

"You speak Russian?" his voice echoed down from higher up. "That is very good, Comrade, now we won't have to feel awkward when speaking."

I aimed at a large snow bank higher up the mountain where I heard his voice come from and fired a grenade. The white surface of the mountain exploded and smoked as I reloaded the grenade launcher, charging up the slope as I did. I swept the crater with my rifle before I realized that he wasn't there.

"What was that for?" he asked, his voice seeming to come straight from the mountain.

"You know damn well what that was for!" I snarled. "Everyone thinks I'm a spy for the Russians because you got away!"

"I didn't just get by you," he said. "There were two others who I managed to slip away from."

"They still blame me!" I said as I pivoted and fired another grenade at a bush, blowing it to Hades.

"Then that is their fault," he said as I ran over to the target and checked the crater to see he wasn't there.

"Dammit, where are you!" I yelled to the snow.

Suddenly there was something pressed against the back of my skull. Through the ski mask, I could feel that it was circular and hollow in the center, which meant it was a gun barrel.

"I'm right here," he said.

"Good," I smirked. "'Saves me ammunition."

I spun around and swatted the pistol away with the butt of my rifle as I started to draw my own pistol. I was confident about my speed, but suddenly I felt my rifle get torn away from my grip and next thing I knew, I was being shoulder-thrown down into the snow below me. I looked up to see a tall man in a long brown coat and a winter hat that shadowed his face with a sniper rifle slung across his back reaching as he scooped his pistol from the snow and tried to bring it to bear. I snarled and tackled him, springing up from the snow and into his chest. We both tumbled down the slope, trying to land a punch or two as we rolled. We broke apart as we hit the bottom, both of us reaching back to find that our holsters were empty. I looked up the slope and saw that the USP .45 was sitting in the snow next to that shiny silver pistol that Veliky had used a few days ago.

"Fuck!" I cursed and pulled out the combat knife from my vest sheathe.

I faced Veliky as I saw him draw a large wicked-looking hunting knife from his belt and hold it in an "intercept attack" position, the edge of the blade facing me.

"I only wanted to talk," he said.

"About what?" I yelled as I charged and knocked him into the snow and held the edge of my knife against his throat. "All I've got to say is you're coming back to America with me to face justice."

He started laughing, the sound starting from a chuckle before it grew into a full-on booming laugh. He reached around and easily threw me off before he sat up and shook his head.

"You think I am the bad guy?" he laughed. "No, it is the other way around."

I tore back up the slope to where I had dropped my pistol, but there was a gunshot and a hole appeared in the snow next to my hand. I looked back to see Veliky holding his sniper rifle and aiming through the scope at my chest. I panted and held my hands up, realizing that even with all the gear I had "borrowed" from the Olympian Armory, I was no match for this man, who was armed with a Cold War era sniper rifle and scope, a prehistoric pistol, and a knife.

"Get your things," he said in a tone that meant 'I am done fucking around with you', slinging the rifle over his shoulder and walking back up the slope to reclaim his pistol and holster it.

"What?" I was really confused now as he tossed my pistol to me and picked up my rifle from where he had thrown it.

"Come on," he beckoned from the edge of the slope. "We have a good hike and it's going to snow very soon. I would like to be in Tobolsk by lunchtime."

I automatically raised the pistol and aimed at his head, but he seemed unfazed like it was a bad joke.

"Go ahead, shoot me," he said, spreading his arms and showing me his chest.

I licked my lips behind my mask and steadied my aim. "I _will_ shoot you," I told him.

"I'm not stopping you," he shrugged, his face still covered by the shadows from his thick winter cap. "Go ahead, take your shot. It might make you feel better."

I grimaced and grit my teeth in anger, my arms shaking with building frustration. I couldn't do it, for some Hades-dammed reason I couldn't shoot him. Even after all he had done to the gods and to me, there was something that was stopping me from killing him or wounding him enough to drag his ass back to New York. It was almost as if he was…

"A friend, da?" he finished my sentence for me from up the slope as he threw my M16A1 back down to me.

"How did you…?" I was astounded that he knew that.

"I felt the same way about killing you back in America," he said as I followed him up the slope. "I felt like I would be killing an old friend, and that did not sit right with me. So I let you and the blonde girl live. How is she, by the way?"

"Clarisse?" I asked.

"Da, the one who you have feelings for," he said as we walked down the slope and started through the small valley that separated us from the next one.

"Okay, how the fucking hell did you know that?" I asked, stopping dead in my tracks.

"I saw it in your eyes when I had the gun to her head," he said.

"And how could you tell?" I asked as I ran to catch up with him

"It is a trick that I learned from experience," he said. "I am a sniper, and a sniper causes chaos and fear. When you can see fear and emotion in the eyes of your prey, you can tell who to kill and what it will do to them."

"What experience taught you that?" I said, tripping as I kicked a rock buried in the snow.

Veliky walked back over and helped me up by my arm. "I spent one month here," he said, gesturing to the mountains that surrounded us, "fighting for my life in these very mountains. Here, I killed many monsters with my rifle, taking their lives in payment for the lives they took."

"Lives taken?" I questioned.

"Da, taken," he said as he kept walking. "Come. I'll show you what happened that night."

I followed him over slope after slope, trying to keep up with him as we hiked through the deep snow. Veliky seemed just fine in these conditions, barely breaking stride as he marched through the snow while I stumbled and tripped with every step. But whenever I fell, Veliky turned around, walked back to me and helped me up without a word. After a while, he seemed to get annoyed with my stumbling and turned around.

"You need to pick your feet up higher," he said, lifting his leg until his knee was bent in a right angle. "Or else you fall down."

He waited a few seconds while I panted and regained my breath. "Could we stop for a moment?" I asked.

"Nyet, we need to move," he said. "Or we get caught in storm and freeze to death."

I nodded and walked, lifting my legs like he showed me. To my surprise, I moved easily through the snow, walking right alongside Veliky without tripping. He nodded, and I couldn't tell if he was smiling because of the shadows.

"Would you take your hat off?" I asked.

"Why?" he asked.

"I'd like to see your face," I told him. "I've seen you in a mask, but not in the flesh."

"Okay," he shrugged and pulled off the thick winter cap he wore.

He wasn't a man, I noticed, he was still a boy in his late teens. His eyes had that childish sparkle to them, but there was a hint of darkness in them…possibly from what he had seen and what he had done. His hair was cropped short and he a stubble growing around his lips and jawline, as if he hadn't shaved in a few days. But it was his hair color that surprised me. It was the same platinum color of Zeus's throne, only with a few streaks of black running through at the roots. He noticed that I was staring and laughed.

"The hair, right?" he asked.

"Oh, sorry," I said. "Is it dye?"

"Nyet, it is my real hair color," he said. "Don't worry, you are not the first to stare."

I nodded and he put the hat back on, adjusting it so that this time I could see his face clearly. We walked on in silence for another hour or so before the mountains thinned out, revealing a plateau below. In the distance, I could see the shapes of buildings through a thick curtain of snowy air.

"That was Tobolsk," Veliky sighed and pointed at the buildings below.

"Was?" I asked.

He nodded. "You see what I mean when we get there."

I followed him down the mountain and across the plateau, which wasn't covered with as much snow as the mountains. As we neared the buildings, I noticed things were lying on the ground, half buried in the snow. I squinted at them as we got closer and entered the cloud. Soon we stopped at one that was lying right in the middle of the path we were walking and I knelt by it, brushing the snow off of it. Right away, I threw up in my mouth, careful not to get any on the body that lay before me.

It had been a man's body, a middle-aged man, as I could tell by the strips of gray hair at his temples. His blank eyes stared out across the plain, wide with fear. One of them was cracked as if it was made of glass, but I was sure that it was a real eye. His skin was a pasty yellow color thanks to the cold and I knew his body was now as brittle as fine glass. One of his arms was gone; the bone partially exposed to the elements, and around it was a frozen puddle of blue blood. His mouth was open in one of pain, as if the nature of his death had been very violent.

"Arman," Veliky sighed as he knelt beside the body and crossed himself. "So you almost made it, eh?"

"You knew him?" I asked, horrified at the sight of the mummified body.

"One of my teachers," he said. "He taught mathematics at the high school."

"What…what happened here?" I asked as I saw more bodies littering the ground in front of us.

"A massacre," he said plainly. "Come, we need to get inside before the storm hits."

He got up and walked through the suburbs and into city, which was relatively small. There were more bodies on the streets as we passed down Main Street, some of them only identifiable as bones scattered around the pavement, frozen solid by the cold with all the flesh torn from them as if they had been eaten. Most of the buildings were caved in, lying as piles of bricks in the street. The apartments at the center of town were charred cinders from a fire that looked like it was sprayed on the buildings, not started. I knelt by a piece of wood and sniffed it, smelling a strong scent of sulfur and monster dust.

"A Drakon," I said, knowing the smell from the Battle for Manhattan against Kronos and the Titans.

"It was twenty feet long," Veliky nodded. "I saw it burn the buildings and eat the people as they ran outside to get away from the flames."

"You're saying monsters did this?" I asked.

He nodded. "I hunted them for what they did here," he told me. "I killed off their officers with my rifle and killed Minos at Soilkamsk."

"Minos?" I asked as I stood up.

"Da, is he an enemy of yours?" he asked.

"He's dead," I said.

"I killed him, da," Veliky nodded.

"No, I mean he died before," I said. "He's been a ghost for the last three thousand years."

"Well, Artemis somehow told him to come here," he said, his tone becoming angry. "Devin Stepanovich, you see what he did! And what he did was on her order!"

He turned before I could say that Artemis wasn't to blame, but Gaea was.

"I show you my house," he said. "We'll take shelter there for the night."

"Veliky!" I shouted down the street, my voice echoing around the dead city. "Artemis didn't tell Minos to come. Gaea did!"

He turned and scowled. "No, they told me it was her," he said. "Comrade Padorin told me himself that there was a communication from New York to the embassy in Moscow, telling Minos to march."

"Look, Artemis isn't the one responsible," I said. "Gaea sent these monsters, she sent Minos as well. You shot the wrong person on Olympus."

"But…why would Comrade Padorin lie to me?" he said, confused. I could see that my logic was beginning to sink in, he believed me.

"Gaea probably made a fake message," I told him. "She can do that, and probably did it to trick you into doing that for her. Veliky…she's tricked all of us."

He howled like a wolf, a sound of pure grief escaping his throat as he drew his knife and shook it at the sky.

"Have I not killed enough!?" he screamed at the clouds. "I took innocent lives, I murdered an innocent girl and helped ease her pain, and it was all for nothing! It was a trick!"

He looked at me, his eyes blazing with anger and murderous intent. "Where is this Gaea?" he asked. "I will do to her what I did to Artemis, only it will not end with a single bullet. No, she will not be as lucky. She _will_ suffer."

"Who are to yelling at?" I asked, confused since I had only seen demigods do that when we were pissed off at our parents.

"God," he said. "The Almighty Father, not your demons on the cloud-mountain. I am Orthodox, Devin, and I am a good Christian. I do not kill innocents."

I was a little surprised at that statement as he walked forwards and pointed his knife at my chest.

"Tell me where to find this Gaea," he said. "You know where she is."

"You're standing on her," I said. "She's the goddess of the earth."

Pyotr knelt and stabbed his knife into the frozen ground, the sharp blade splitting the ice like it was fine paper. I admit, I was horrified at how broken he was inside. On Olympus, he had seemed so content and civilized, even when he was running for his life and dodging fucking lightning bolts. But standing here in the ruins of his home surrounded by the bodies of his friends and family, faced with the truth that he had taken lives for the wrong reason, he was naive as a child who wanted revenge against a world he barely understood. Again and again he stabbed the frozen ground, hot tears of anger and hatred pouring down his face as he drove the blade in deeper and deeper into the ground. I couldn't watch any more of this and ran over to him, grabbing his arm as he brought the knife up again to stab.

"Enough, enough!" I yelled as I tried to wrestle the knife from him.

He grabbed at my neck and threw me over his shoulder, the translator falling off as I tumbled across the frozen pavement and slid across some ice that had frozen over a gutter.

"Yob tvoyu mat!" he screamed in Russian.

I knew what that meant, even without the translator. "Fuck your mother," it was a popular curse among the Russians. I put the necklace back on and he stood there, unmoving except for his hands and shoulders as they shook with anger.

"I am sorry I said that," he said. "That is not how you speak to friends."

"It's fine," I told him, walking over and putting my hand on his shoulder. "Look, we should probably get inside before that storm hits, huh?"

"Da," he said, sheathing his knife and walking up the street. "Follow me."

It was a brisk walk along the street and into the agrarian end of the town, near some fields that probably had once held cattle or potatoes. There were fewer bodies along this way, and the ones we found were just scattered skeletons and random pieces of bone. Veliky was still angry, because his hands still shook. But now he was trying to control them, pushing them deep inside his pockets to immobilize them. But soon it was too much for him and he suddenly stormed off the path and into the building on our right.

"Where're you going?" I asked as he walked inside, his boots making large footprints on the snow-covered steps.

"Vodka," he said from inside. "I left my bottle back in Moscow."

"How old are you?" I asked as I followed him inside the ruined house.

"Seventeen," he said from inside the kitchen. "I turn eighteen in eleven months."

"You're way too young to drink," I told him as I entered the kitchen and watched as he opened a bottle that had been forgotten by the house's inhabitants.

"Vodka takes the pain away," he said simply as he put the bottle to his lips and tipped it back, exhaling explosively as he finished. "Here, drink some. It takes your pain away to."

"Alcohol isn't the way to deal with grief," I said sternly.

"Then how do you handle your grief?" he asked, taking another large gulp of vodka.

"A psychologist," I said. "We go to people and tell them our problems and they tell us how to deal with them."

"That is the American way," he grunted and drank again. "I handle my grief the Russian way."

"By drinking too much, getting drunk and then passing out?" I asked.

He laughed. "To a Russian like myself," he grinned, "there is no such thing as too much."

He stopped up the bottle and walked back outside, squinting at the sky. "The storm is almost here," he said. "Come on, we'll go to my house."

He jogged down the road, his rifle bouncing on his back as he moved. I ran after him and down a path away from the center of town and towards the edge of the woods at the bottom of the mountain. We stopped at a single-story house that wasn't too damaged except for a little charring on the front door and the walls around it. A wolf howled in the woods behind the house and I stopped to listen to it, my hand going around to my pistol out of instinct. Pyotr laughed when he saw me, his stereotypical loud Russian laugh booming around the landscape. It was a little ironic for a sniper to have such a loud and powerful voice.

"If the wolves wanted you dead," he chuckled, "then you would not have survived your first night in the mountains."

I was about to say something back when my radio suddenly buzzed.

"Devin?" it was Percy's voice. "Devin, can you hear me?"

"I'm sorry," I said to Veliky as I pulled the handheld set from my pocket. "May I take this out here?"

"Go ahead," he said. "I'll get the fire going; warm this place up before the cold hits."

"Percy," I said as the door closed behind him and I was alone on the front porch. "This had better be important."

"Where are you?" he said as something buzzed in the background.

"Is that an airplane?" I asked.

"Yeah, we're on our way to Siberia right now," he said.

"Devin listen to me," now Annabeth was speaking. "Stay where you are. Do not try to capture the sniper on your own. His name is."

"Pyotr Veliky of Tobolsk, I know," I said. "Annabeth, listen…Veliky's not a bad guy."

"What?" Thalia cut in. "What are you saying!?"

"I've been speaking with him," I said. "Guys, listen to me…somebody told him that Artemis was the one who ordered the massacre at Tobolsk and he's been trying to get revenge for what happened here."

"_Here_?" Annabeth asked. "Are you at Tobolsk?"

I winced, seeing that I had accidentally revealed our position. "Yeah, I'm at Tobolsk," I said. "Guys…I've seen what it looks like and it's really bad. Much worse than the Titan War. Nobody survived this except for him."

"So you're saying that somebody tricked this guy into thinking Artemis is to blame for that massacre?" Thalia asked. "Devin, he's lying to you."

"Thalia," I said, pulling up the ski mask and rubbing my temples. "Veliky told me that a Greek man named Minos led the attack and that he killed the man himself. Minos…as in _King_ Minos, does that name ring any bells to you? That means it was Gaea who ordered this to happen. I'll bet that she planted a fake message in the Russian's intelligence line so that when Veliky asked who was to blame, he would go right to the gods for revenge, even if it was a suicide mission."

"That does make sense," Percy said. "So what are you doing now?"

"I'm going to see if I can convince him to let Artemis go," I said, feeling the snow start to fall. "Look a storm's coming and I've got to get inside. If you guys come here, watch the wolves. And if you make it to Tobolsk, then don't try to take Veliky. He'll kill you all in a heartbeat, okay? Over-out."

I shut off the radio and went inside. I heard a fire going from the living room and felt the temperature inside go up right away. Pyotr walked out, rubbing his bare hands to warm them up.

"Why don't you just wear gloves?" I asked.

"Ah, they would only get in the way of my rifle," he said. "What did your friends want?"

I decided not to ask him how he knew that they were my friends and just answered. "They're coming here," I said.

"Did you tell them to come?" he asked.

"No, they think I'm out for revenge against you for what happened last week," I said. "I didn't tell anyone where I was going when I left New York."

"Are you still out for revenge?" he asked as he walked to the kitchen and opened a cabinet, pulling out a can of food. "Do you like borscht?"

"Not anymore," I said. "And I've never tried borscht."

He grinned and opened the can, pouring the broth inside into a pot that was left on the stove. He pulled a match from his pocket and lit it by hand, scraping it along the counter to ignite it before he put it in the stove to light it. Three times it failed to light before he tossed the match in and gave the stove a good swift kick. The burner flared and the broth began to boil.

"My father believed that too many modern things destroy who we truly were," he said, jerking his finger at the stove. "Mother was fine with everything in this house being "reliable" except this stove. She once broke her toe by kicking it."

I smiled at the joke as he shrugged off his jacket and removed his hat and rifle, hanging them on the coat hook by the front door. Underneath, he was wearing a plain gray turtleneck sweater. "Hang your coat up," he said, pointing at coat hook.

I nodded and did as he asked, leaving my backpack and rifle hanging on the hook next to his. As I reentered the kitchen, he was stirring the pot on the stove with a wooden spoon.

"Where'd you learn to cook?" I asked.

"Tania taught me," he said with a sigh.

"Ex-girlfriend?" I asked with a joking air to my attitude.

"Almost," he said, pointing out the kitchen window into the backyard.

I looked out and saw three headstones in the center of the yard, the gray rocks standing out amongst the white of the falling snow.

"My parents," he said. "And Tania. It took me a while to find their bodies, but I did."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know what it's like to lose your family."

"You do?" he asked, turning around from the stove to face me.

I nodded. "My mother died when I was five," I told him. "She was a Marine, a good soldier. But one day she didn't come home and my father just abandoned me afterwards. I haven't seen him since."

"Your father was a demon?" he asked.

"Thantos," I said. "God of Death."

He pursed his lips and nodded. "And you do not know who killed your mother?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I wish I did," I said. "I would do anything to kill that fucker."

He smiled. "Then we have something in common," he said as he filled two bowls with borscht and brought over the bottle of vodka along with them. "I am sorry; I think the monsters stole our glasses. I hope you don't mind drinking from the bottle."

"It's fine," I said as I stirred the pale-pink soup around with my spoon as he sat down.

We started eating in silence, sipping the hot soup down to fight the cold. I found that borscht was very good; as it had a strong meaty taste to it. "This is very good," I told him. "I've never had Russian food before."

He chuckled and took a sip of vodka. "It is not my best work," he admitted. "It tastes better with pirozhki and vodka, not just vodka."

"Pirozhki?" I asked.

"They are sweet fried buns," he grinned and stared off into space, thinking about food. "They are delicious, Devin. I wish we had some right now."

"I'll see if I can find some in New York," I laughed. "If not, maybe I can cook some myself."

He laughed back and finished off his borscht before he offered me the vodka. "Do not think that you can come to Russia and try our food, but not our vodka," he said with a smile. "Drink some."

I shrugged and took the bottle from him. I mean what the hell? What harm could one sip do? I took a single gulp and coughed hard as I tried to swallow it. It was very strong and had a somewhat bitter taste to it. I swallowed it and kept coughing, my eyes watering at the strength of the vodka.

"What _is_ this stuff?" I coughed and wiped my eyes. "Liquid smelling salts?"

"It is yubileynaya vodka," Veliky laughed so hard at my expression that he started crying. "An anniversary drink. My god, Devin…you should have seen your face, HAHAHAHAHAH!"

I rolled my eyes and handed him the bottle, chuckling a little along with him before I knew I had to talk about something more serious: Artemis.

"Hey," I said, trying to phrase my words carefully. "You said you don't kill innocents before. Why not?"

"Then I would be no better than they are," he sighed and rested his elbows on the table. "I watched this happen…this massacre here. I saw them laugh and rejoice as they killed my family, killed my friends for blood's sake. Reznov told me that a sniper is a hunter of men, but to take a life like that is a big step and it must not be done lightly. Last week, I killed eleven people, most of which I did not care about. But the girl in the lobby of your Empire State Building…she was different. She didn't need to die, but she did. She asked me to end her pain, Devin. So I cut her throat to save her the agony."

"What about Artemis?" I asked. "She's innocent of ordering the massacre and she's close to dying."

"So?" he said. "Let her die, then. She may not be responsible for this tragedy, but who knows what else she's done? If she dies, then I will have done the world a great favor. If she lives, then I will hunt her until I do not have the strength to carry on. It makes the hunt exciting, no? To hunt the goddess of the hunt…that is not something you do not get to do every day."

I swallowed and looked at my empty soup bowl. This was going to be harder than I thought. If he was dead set on killing Artemis, who knows what would happen in the world. Now the world was unstable thanks to these current events, but peace wasn't broken yet.

_It's just like the prophecy,_ I realized. _"The Great is first to begin his brawl. Should he succeed, then the further peace falls." Veliky is The Great, and if he kills Artemis, then all hope for peace falls away. _

I sucked in a breath, knowing that this was the ultimate sacrifice a man could make for his country.

"Hunt me instead," I said, not looking up at him.

"What?" he asked.

"You heard me," I said. "Let Artemis go, she had no part in this. You can hunt me instead."

He stared at me and sighed. Suddenly, his hands moved and something flashed past my face. There was a "thunk" and I looked back to see his hunting knife buried in the wall behind my face, a literal millimeter from my temple. I swallowed as he got up and walked around me, pulling the knife out and standing over me, the tip loosely pointed at my head.

"You would not be good prey," he said. "And besides, I do not want to kill a friend."

"Then teach me," I said, standing up and looking him right in the eye, determined not to fail this test. "Teach me how to fight, how to run, how to be good prey. Just let Artemis go."

He sighed and looked away.

"Fine," he said. "I will teach you how to be a good fighter. I will teach you how to snipe and how to hide. But I will teach you how to be prey, Devin Stepanovich. You are a friend and I do not have enough friends right now to kill any."

I laughed and extended my hand. "So you won't hunt Artemis?" I asked. "Promise you'll let her go and that you won't hunt her again?"

He shook my hand hard and nodded. "I promise," he said.

He took another gulp of vodka and I accepted the bottle from him, careful about the taste as I swallowed a teeny bit and stifled a cough as the strength of the alcohol overpowered me. Veliky grinned and patted my shoulder as he walked back to his chair and sat down.

"You'll get used to it," he said, staring out the kitchen window at the snowy field behind the house and into the woods beyond.

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(Ivan Chernov [Older])

(Lubyanka New York City)

"Ivan, stop fooling around!" I said as I took the soldering iron back from him and tried to concentrate on the bomb in front of me.

"Come on, give it back!" he whined as he tried to take it from me. "I wasn't done with it yet!"

"Fine," I said, setting the iron down and stepping away from the workbench where we were building the detonator and casing. "You finish up here, I'll take care of the Potassium Chlorate."

"Don't knock it over again," he called as he began soldering the wires of the detonator. "That set us back a few days."

"Don't screw up them wires then," I said. "That cost us half a week to fix. Suvorov wants this done tonight, remember?"

"Then get to work," he said.

I sighed and walked over to the beakers of chemicals. We had the chlorate already made because I had spent all of last night trying to fix the mistakes I had made with the beakers, meaning I had bumped the table and spilled everything and caused a small fire. I told Suvorov that we would be done by tonight so we could plant the bomb in the American's car the next morning. Ivan would be starting his first day of school when it was scheduled to go off and I would be there with him to drop him off, eliminating the very remote chance of us being suspects, as Suvorov claimed.

I concentrated and carefully began to mix the fine powdered Potassium Chlorate down into a kind of experimental plastic explosive that I had created back in prison. It would make it easier to handle and less shock resistant when transported. Once it was in the bomb, we would plant it inside the American's car when she took it to be serviced by a mechanic. Once it was connected to the engine, the bomb would only be able to be detonated when the engine was running, making it look more like a poorly-maintained engine combusting rather than an assassination by bombing. Everything was going very well, there were no interruptions from Ivan as he calmly soldered away at the wires, occasionally stopping to adjust a part of the casing. I sighed and felt like I was ignoring him, my brother who I hadn't seen since I was thrown into juvie.

"So how is your computer work going?" I asked.

"Great," he said. "I updated the firewalls here this morning and improved the anti-viral software in the bank."

"That's very good, I nodded, still keeping my eyes on the powder that was slowly forming into plastic explosive that I had yet to name. "Anything else?"

"Just the school stuff," he said, possibly with a shrug. "I have to get ready for tomorrow's big day. But I wish I didn't have to go, Ivan. I want to stay here with you."

I smiled and quickly checked my equation for the chemistry of the explosive. "It will be good for you," I told him. "The Americans have good schools."

"But not like mama's," he sighed. "She taught us things we liked. I miss her every day."

I nodded, a brief memory of my mother flashing through my mind. "I miss her too," I told him as the mixture solidified into the explosive. "It's finished now, all I had to do was solidify it."

"Lemme see!" he said, jumping off his stool and running over to look in the container. "Wow, Ivan, it's perfect!"

"Da," I smiled. "And no one knows it exists yet. It becomes untraceable after detonation. No bomb squad in the world would be able to tell what it really was."

"And you're sure it'll be powerful enough to kill the American?" he asked.

"I haven't tested it yet," I shrugged. "But it should set the car on fire even if the charge doesn't explode, so that will be the backup plan."

"What are you going to call it?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," I said. "I can't just name it after myself, that wouldn't be creative."

"Name it after mama," he said.

"Nika Chernov?" I said. "It's a bit long."

"No, just Nika," he said. "For mama."

"Nika…" I said, patting his shoulder. "That's what we'll call it."

"I'll tell Suvorov," he said, walking over to the phone that had been given to him. "The bomb is almost ready anyway."

I grinned and picked up the casing of Nika explosive, walking over to where he had the bomb nearly complete. I set the case down and picked up the detonator, arming the switch and pressing the button to make sure it was pressure-sensitive. It was, so disarmed it and set it down as Ivan handed me the phone.

"He wants to speak with you, brother," he said.

"Colonel Suvorov," I said. "The explosive is ready and the bomb is nearly complete. We should be finished in five to ten minutes at the latest."

"Good," he said as I heard a muffled gunshot in the background. "Yuriy and Alexi are just playing with Eros a little. I'll come check on your progress in one hour. Also, I'm going to be out tonight for a dinner with some rich Americans that CARDINAL is going to make deals with, so I will not be in. You'll have command while I'm gone."

"Okay," I said. "I'll see you in an hour."

I heard the beep as he hung up in his usual brief manner.

"What'd he say?" Ivan asked.

"We have command of Lubyanka for the night," I said. "Suvorov is out tonight."

"Sweet!" he said. "I call the TV!"

"Nyet, you need to pack your bag," I said. "Then you can watch TV."

"Aw, come on, Ivan," he pleaded.

"Pack," I told him as I removed the Nika from the casing and wired it into the bomb. "Then we can watch TV."

"Fine," he sighed and walked out to go up to the room that we had here. "Bye."

I sighed and double checked the bomb's detonator, making sure that the radio frequency was keyed into that of the handheld set. I flicked the switch on the handheld and the red lights started blinking on both the bomb and the handheld, proving that it was working right. I set it down and turned off the bomb, removing the handheld's batteries to be safe.

As I turned off the burners and machines, closing the lab down for the night, I let out another sigh. In trying to give my brother a better life, was I destroying the one that he wanted? He was a half Czech, half Russian by blood, and a bomb maker to the core. He was already a genius, any test could prove that, but he lacked language skills and he knew virtually nothing about history. Neither did I, and it was way too late for me to go back and learn what I needed. After our work in America was done, I would just go back to Moscow and work with bombs the rest of my life, arming and disarming them until I died. But Ivan had a chance to avoid that; he could go anywhere and do anything he wanted to with a diploma only he could get. But he refused to reach out, and that was what worried me. Was he refusing this opportunity because he didn't want to leave me? Or was it something to do with the work we did back in Chechnya, the trauma of making bombs and being harassed daily by our fellow terrorists (of who we didn't even share the same religious beliefs, much less a goal), and finally being arrested and almost sentenced to death row. Was it PTSD?

"Only time will tell," I said to myself as I shut off the lights and left the lab, walking down past the KGB operatives who walked the steel halls.

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(Klementi Ivan'ch Suvorov, AKA Richard Sorge)

(New York City)

I hung up the phone and turned to Misha.

"That was Ivan," I said.

"Which one?" he asked.

"The older brother," I explained. "He says the bomb is finished. We can move ahead with the plan in the morning."

"Excellent," he smiled. "But first, we need to get through this dinner."

I nodded and straightened my tuxedo, making sure that the Desert Eagle tucked into my shoulder holster was hidden from sight.

The dinner party was being held in a fancy restaurant called **Rogue 24 in Manhattan. From what I had seen, it was a very high-society establishment, sort of like the kind that I used to go to when I was a lieutenant back in Moscow. Alexi and Yuriy were standing guard at both entrances, each of them carrying the same pistol I was. The Desert Eagle was a powerful pistol, carrying a .44 magnum round that could punch through any sort of light cover. Traditionally, it wasn't the weapon of a spy, but it was a very reliable weapon, so that's why I selected it. **

**The car pulled up to the restaurant and I got out to get Misha's door for him. He exited the car, and grinned as our hostess came out to greet us. **

**"Mr. Afanasyev," she said addressing Misha by his alias as he politely kissed her hand. **

**"Good evening, Ms. Davis," he told the peroxide blonde, as he turned to me. "You remember my bodyguard, Richard?"**

**"Ah yes," she said, smiling at me. "Good evening."**

**"And to you," I said with a nod, keeping my eyes focused on Misha. **

**"Come in, come in," she said. "We were just about to order."**

**We walked in to see the entire restaurant was empty. The lights were dim and the tables were empty. **

**"Where is everyone?" I asked. **

**Ms. Davis turned to me. "The third floor," she said. "I own the restaurant, Mr. Sorge."**

**"Ah," I said, feeling a strange cold shiver running down my back. **

**"Front doorway is secure," I heard Alexi say through my earpiece. **

**"Elevator is covered," Yuriy reported a second later, both of them speaking English to blend in. **

**"Alright, check in in half an hour," I told them out loud as I slowed my pace, allowing Misha and Ms. Davis to walk ahead. Once they were out of earshot, I spoke again. **

**"I've got a bad feeling about this," I said, still speaking English in case I was overheard. **

**"I feel it to," Alexi said. **

**"Same here, boss," Yuriy said. **

**"Stay frosty then," I said, walking up to get on Misha's side. **

**They were in the middle of a business conversation when I got there, speaking about foreign exchange rates and the state of the Russian economy. I paid no attention to them, just concentrated on the surrounding area. I felt as if any second someone was going to pop out of hiding with a gun and start shooting up the place. I swept every corner, checking every shadow without breaking my stride. I was an assassin, sure, but that doesn't mean that I hadn't learned anything about security during my stay here as Misha's 'bodyguard.**

Just as I thought everything was clean, I heard a muffled snap from the elevator. Right away, my training kicked in and I grabbed Misha and Ms. Davis, pulling them both behind a booth. Ms. Davis let out a little yelp, but I quickly silenced her.

"I think I heard a shot," I said into the comlink as I pulled out the Desert Eagle. "Silencer, in the elevator, first floor."

"A waiter just went in on the kitchen floor," Yuriy told me. "He might be armed."

The elevator doors opened and I popped from cover, aiming straight at the waiter's heart.

"Freeze!" I yelled. "Drop your gun now!"

The small man yelped and nearly dropped the bottle of champagne he was carrying, spilling it all over his shirt. "Don't shoot me!" he yelled.

I sighed and relaxed, seeing that there was no threat.

"A-all I took was one bottle," he said. "I swear, I didn't take any money."

"Get out," I said, rolling my eyes at his antics as I holstered my gun.

"What?" he asked. "Y-You're not gonna fire me?"

"No, but I will!" Ms. Davis said, standing up and brushing off her dress. "Stealing company property in the middle of my dinner party, just who do you think you are?"

The alcoholic waiter just trembled. I noticed that Ms. Davis could be quite scary when she was angry.

"You're fired!" she said, walking over and taking the bottle from his hands. "Get out of my restaurant this instant!"

The waiter ran off and Ms. Davis sighed.

"I do apologize for that," she said, once again sweet and nice like a mother. "But would you please explain your actions, Mr. Sorge?"

"I thought that the popping of the champagne bottle's cork was a silenced weapon," I said, keeping my face neutral. "I apologize for handling you like that, Ms. Davis. But your safety is just as important to me as that of Mr. Afanasyev."

"Richard is a good bodyguard," Misha said, stepping in to defend me as he patted my shoulder. "He follows his instincts well and it's saved my life a few times."

"Well then," Ms. Davis said. "Thank you for your concern, Mr. Sorge, but I assure you that my own security force here is quite capable."

"I'm sure," I nodded.

We all stepped in the elevator and Ms. Davis pushed the button for the third floor before she resumed talking with Misha. I just stood at attention beside them, calming myself down before we got out. Unlike the first floor, this one was brightly lit and full of conversation. The table was very long and there were people everywhere. A man noticed us and got up with the woman next to him following. He met us halfway and kissed Ms. Davis on the cheek.

"Cassandra, it's been too long," he said.

"Has it, Paul?" she asked before addressing the woman. "Hello, Sally, how are you?"

"Fine, Cassie," she said. "Who is this?"

"Oh, where are my manners?" Ms. Davis laughed. "Paul, Sally, I would like you to meet Mr. Afanasyev and his bodyguard Richard Sorge. Mr. Afanasyev, Mr. Sorge, this may I introduce Paul Blofis and his fiancée, Sally Jackson."

My eyes snapped open. My briefings had told me that Sally Jackson was the mother of Perseus Jackson and wife of the sea god, Poseidon. Not much was known about her, just a modest backstory and her family history. She worked in Grand Central Station, I think, at a sweet shop and only ate blue food. Her son had been kicked out of many schools for violence, mouthing off to the teachers, poor academic performance, and something known as "un-groovy karma." Sally Jackson was not known to be combat proficient and neither was her English professor of a fiancé. If they became a problem, we could easily take the two of them out.

"Nice to meet you," she said to Misha before turning to me. "Richard…that's not a Russian name, isn't it?"

"I was born here," I said, keeping my voice in a "New York" accent so I wouldn't slip into Russian. "Mr. Afanasyev is my uncle."

"So you work as his bodyguard?" she asked.

"He has been like a second father to me," I said. "This is how I repay him for his kindness."

Misha waved me over as he, Blofis and Ms. Davis took their seats at the table.

"Excuse me," I said, all too eager to get away from this woman who clearly didn't trust me one bit.

I took my seat next to Misha and the waiter handed me a menu. I used it to hide my face as Sally Jackson took her seat in front of me, still scanning my face. No doubt she had been informed of the Politburo's plans and was on the lookout for Russians. She could be trouble, but there was no way I could eliminate her without exposing myself, Misha, and the whole operation. I cursed myself for forgetting my garrote and silencer, and I hadn't even worn my shoe-knife! I screamed insults at myself inside my head as I calmly ordered a steak and a glass of wine for dinner.

Dinner conversation ensured, no one really paying any attention to me except for the casual death glare from Sally Jackson. I surveyed the room and the people inside with me, checking for bulges in coats or anything that said "weapon." Aside from Ms. Davis's security force, there was no one here like that. The table was occupied by some Korean businessmen, a few French investors, an Indian diplomat, and a few Italian men.

A dinging sound brought me out of my thoughts as Ms. Davis stood up with her glass and spoon in hand.

"Everyone, thank you so much for coming here tonight," she said. "I know that some of our nations may not agree with each other and politics may be in a delicate state. But one thing will unite us, and that is business."

"Business indeed," said one of the Italian men as he stood up and clapped, the rest of the table soon joining in. "Ms. Davis, please allow me to make a donation to your charity fund."

"Pardon?" she asked as he man slipped his hand into his coat for his checkbook. "I don't run a charity fund, Mr. Verrazano."

"Well consider this a gift," he said. "Gunshot surgery is _so_ expensive these days."

Instead of a checkbook, he pulled out a gun and shot Ms. Davis in the arm. As soon as he did so, the rest of the Italian men stood and pulled out their own weapons from secret shoulder holsters or even from under the table and went to town on Ms. Davis's security force. Taken by surprise, the security force was cut down by the volley of shotgun and small-arms fire that blanketed the room. Right away, I tackled Misha out of his seat, covering his head as bullets began whizzing over our heads. I reached for my Desert Eagle, but decided against it, since I was severely outnumbered.

"Hostiles in the dining room!" I said into the comlink over the chatter of gunfire. "Both of you get up here now!"

"I'm a little busy on the ground floor," Alexi said. "Five tangos in here, but they don't know I'm here. I may be able to sneak past them…fuck!"

More gunfire sounded in my ear, telling that Alexi's position had been compromised.

"Yuriy, can you support me?" I asked as a few remaining security guards managed to return some fire at the attackers.

"On my way," he said. "ETA, one minute."

"Got it," I said as the gunfire stopped.

I peeked my head up to see that the entire security group was dead, while the Italian men hadn't lost a single man.

"Now," said the leader. "Everyone hand over your bank account numbers and no one gets hurt."

"You're insane!" yelled the Indian diplomat. "You will not get away with this crime."

"Clearly Ms. Davis wasn't an example," mused the Italian as I opened my comlink open so that Alexi and Yuriy could hear what was going on in here.

"Clearly we need to make another example," said the man, who I assumed worked for the Mafia. He looked at me and pointed. "Bring that man up here."

I grinned inwardly. Many of my early training exercises had been to put down organized crime back in Russia. The Mafia here was clearly just as sloppy as the ones back in Moscow. Two men walked over to me, one carrying a pistol while the other one was carrying a sawed-off twelve gauge shotgun, both of them just a pair of hired guns who had probably never held a firearm before in their lives.

"Hands on your head," he said and I just grinned as I saw the elevator start to move down from the kitchen level to our floor.

I got up and put my head on my head as I walked over to the man, Verrazano. He raised the gun and pressed it into my forehead as the elevator silently opened behind and Yuriy stepped out, his pistol drawn.

"G-n Verrazano," I said in Russian. "Ad zhdet vas." _(Mr. Verrazano. Hell awaits you.)_

Yuriy moved in and fired three shots into Verrazano's back. He crumpled and I grabbed the pistol from his dead hand as he fell. Before either of the guards could bring their guns to bear, I spun and wrapped my arm around the closet one's neck in a choke-hold, dragging him in front of me as a human shield. I raised Verrazano's gun and started shooting, using the man's body to protect myself from the Italians as they returned fire.

"Everyone, stay down!" I yelled as I pushed the Italian's body at the closest man and shot them both in the head, their blood spurting out to stain the white tablecloth red.

I looked down at Verrazano's pistol, calmly walking forwards as the Italians shot back, blindly firing over the tops of tables as they crouched behind them, tossing it aside. It was a piece of junk, probably bought at a pawn shop. I drew my Desert Eagle and crouched behind a table across from Yuriy. I nodded at him and we both stood up in the middle of the gun barrage that was being fired at us. Yuriy started shooting at the table, scaring the Italians into ducking back down. I ran forwards as he covered me and jumped up onto the table looking down at the five cowering Italians. I grinned menacingly at them as they held up their hands in surrender.

"Like shooing fish in a barrel," I said as I and fired down at them from above.

Five shots later, I hopped down from the table and changed magazines. I nodded at Yuriy, who was checking Misha for any injuries.

"He's fine," he told me a minute later. "We need to get out of here now."

I nodded and scooped up a fallen Mafia soldier's weapon. A MAC-10 SMG, one of the most unreliable submachine guns ever made. It wasn't accurate at all, had a huge recoil, and overheated easily. But considering the other weapons that I had around me, this was the best one. And I didn't want to engage multiple enemies with just a pistol. I scourged a few spare magazines for the MAC-10 off a fallen Mafia soldier and made sure the gun was topped off before I stood back up.

"Alright everyone listen up," I said to the room of terrified people. "Does anyone here have any experience with guns?"

Only Sally Jackson raised her hand, much to my surprise. "I've fired shotguns before," she said.

"Okay," I said, scooping up a discarded Ranger shotgun and handed it to her before I spoke back to the crowd. "Everyone, me and my friend Yuriy are going downstairs to clean up the rest of the Mafia inside so the police can get inside and help you people. Ms. Jackson here is going to protect you. We're going to disable the elevator so they can't get back up here, so watch the stairwell."

I turned back to Sally. "If someone comes up here, and it isn't me or Yuriy, let him have it with both barrels, got it?"

She nodded. "Good luck," she said before moving over to the stairs and checking them for anyone coming.

"Grab that bottle of champagne," I told Yuriy. "I've got an idea."

He tossed me the bottle and I opened the elevator, dumping the entire bottle out onto the floor of the elevator.

"I need a match," I said. "Uncle Misha?"

Misha grinned at me calling him "uncle," as he reached into his jacket pocket and tossed me his spare book of matches, since I knew his lighter was something he would never part with. I lit the match and pressed the button for the ground floor. Just as the doors were starting to close, I tossed the match into the alcohol-soaked floor. The blaze started right away as the doors closed and the elevator began moving down to the first floor.

"Move!" I told Yuriy as we dashed down the stairs, keeping our guns up to cover our advance.

We passed the second floor entrance and went straight down to the first floor, where the smoke from the elevator fire was starting to fill the room, clouding the air and lowering visibility. I nodded to Yuriy as he started to pick the lock.

"Alexi, we're coming out the stairwell entrance," I said as someone fired blindly into the smoke. "Hold your fire in that direction."

"Okay," he coughed. "You might have overdone it with the smoke a little bit, 'Richard'."

"Screw this," Yuriy said as he drew his pistol and shot the lock off. "Let's go!"

We charged inside and split up, flanking the Mafia guys as they continued to hold the bar counter as if it was a bunker.

"Suppressing fire!" I shouted out as the three of us fired through the smoke at the flashes that were coming from the bar area.

The MAC-10 jerked around in my arms wildly, like I was holding a writing snake. It wasn't good for a one on one fight, but in a situation like this, I realized it was the best weapon for the job. The Mafia soldiers ducked back down behind the counter as we took turns alternating our fire so one of us could reload while the other two covered him. Slowly, we advanced through the smoke, careful to keep our heads low so we could breathe.

"Alexi, flank left," I said. "Yuriy, cover his ass while I thin them out a little bit."

"Got it," they said as Alexi's form moved through the smoke, the flashes from Yuriy's shots drawing the Mafia's attention.

I changed magazines and army-crawled forwards, wishing that I had a grenade on me right now. A stray bullet struck the floor right in front of me, shattering the marble and coating my face and suit in dust. I shook my head and wiped my eyes, remembering that I had a job to do right now and these Mafia jerkoffs were pissing me off.

_I have spent way too much time in America,_ I thought to myself as I kept crawling around the tables towards to the bar.

"Get ready to charge," I said into the comlink. "Watch for stray shots."

"Ready on your go," said Yuriy.

"I'm good here," Alexi said.

I exhaled, coughing slightly on the smoke as I stood and mantled the bar counter, letting the MAC-10 spray the entire magazine into the mass of Mafia soldiers below me. I dropped the empty SMG and pulled out the Desert Eagle to finish off the last two, who were screaming for mercy in Italian. I cocked my head at them and grinned.

"Miloserdiye yest'pustoye slovo v Rossi," I said as I fired two more shots into each one's head. _(Mercy is an empty word in Russia.)_

The smoke was starting to get thicker, making it harder to see and breathe that it was already. I holstered my pistol and grabbed the nearest fire extinguisher before I put out the flames in the elevator. Slowly the air cleared, revealing Alexi and Yuriy standing with their pistols still aimed at the bar.

"All EKIA," I said. (Enemy Killed In Action)

"Copy that," Alexi said. "Wanna call the cops now?"

"Sure," I said as I grabbed my phone and tossed it to him.

"We're going to be in the paper now, you know," Yuriy said in Russian, rolling a dead Mafia soldier over with his boot. "All of America will know about us."

"Da, but our real identities won't be seen," I said. "Now, we move ahead with OPERATION JUSTIFICATION as planned. Phase Two will begin after the Chernovs get the bomb set up in the American's car. Until then, we lay low. Besides, this is America."

I spread my arms and gestured to the room full of dead men. "They love gun slinging heroes here. No one will pay attention to us behind the scenes."

**IS IT JUST ME, OR IS SUVOROV KICK ASS OR WHAT? IT ISN'T ME! **

**WHO IS ALICE MARINA? WHAT IS VELIKY GOING TO TEACH DEVIN? IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE YOUNGER IVAN CHERNOV? AND WHAT ****_IS_**** PHASE TWO OF OPERATION JUSTIFICATION? NEXT TIME, IN ****_THE BEAR AND THE EAGLE_**


	10. Red Storm Rising

Chapter 10: Red Storm Rising

**PRIVET, TOVARICHS! I HAVE ONE THING TO SAY TO ONE VERY SPECIAL READER OF MINE: WOLFGIRL1221, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SUBMITTING ANOTHER CHARACTER. DEVIN WAS SUCH A BIG HIT WITH ME AND ANIKA IS GOING THE SAME WAY. SHE'S GOING TO BE A HUGE HEROINE IN THIS STORY. **

**NOW FOR THE REST OF YOU, I WOULD LIKE SOME OF YOU TO SUBMIT YOUR OWN CHARACTERS, PLEASE. IT'S VITAL TO THE STORY THAT I GET SOME MORE. **

**ALSO, I'M NOT EXACTLY SURE OF HOW THE UNITED NATIONS WORKS, BUT I'M GIVING IT MY BEST SHOT FOR DRAMA'S SAKE. NO FLAMES ON THAT PART OKAY? POLITICS ARE HARD…**

**ONE LAST THING: WHEN YOU GET TO THE SECTION THAT SAYS VLADIMIR A. MAKRAOV, FOR ALL OF YOU CALL OF DUTY FREAKS OUT THERE, YES THAT IS MAKAROV. I NEEDED A CHARACTER LIKE HIM, AND DECIDED 'THE HELL WITH IT,' SINCE I COULDN'T THINK OF A PERFECT NAME. **

**READ AND REVIEW!**

(Dr. Nikolai Pavel'ch Ivanovich, Ph.D.)

(Gorki-8 Medical Clinic)

I didn't remember falling asleep the night before in my bed. But I had been working late and it wasn't unheard of, was it? My notebook and pencil were lying on my stomach, numbers and equations scattered across the open page. The Stalin Bomb was nearing's completion. Once I was out of this dammed hospital, I would physically put the rest of it together. But for now, I needed to work out any bugs in the designs for the warhead and MIRV's. And I still needed to test the actual explosive, which meant that we would need a test subject of some kind to see how powerful and devastating it was.

I turned on the television and changed to the news. There was some kind of riot happening outside the Greek embassy here in Moscow. The crowd gathered was massive, filling up the entire street and spilling up into nearby buildings where people threw things down into the embassy lot. I smiled and listened to the commentary being done about the issue. Apparently, this was not the first riot. Several more had happened earlier this month in response to the massacre at Tobolsk. It had been confirmed that the SVR had intercepted a communication from Greece to the embassy in Moscow, which was then dispatched off to an unknown location. The code had been cracked and the message had been publicly displayed on the internet, the news, and every single means of propaganda that could be used. American news companies like CNN were also monitoring the activities here, helping the world know of our horror. No photos had been taken, but reporters who had visited the city of Tobolsk had returned shell-shocked at what they saw. "Children slaughtered in the streets, houses burned and ransacked, women and men alike were beaten and in some cases raped depending on the gender" were the words of one American. The Greeks denied ever sending the order for this to happen, claiming it was faked by a terrorist organization which wanted a war between our two nations. Our government hadn't given the reply, and Uncle Yuri had refused to tell me anything yet.

Almost as if on cue, there was a knock on my door.

"Come in," I said.

Uncle Yuri entered with a grin on his face. "How is your arm?" he asked.

"A little better now," I smiled. "Shouldn't you be at work right now?"

"I suppose that I should," he said as he pulled up a chair and sat next to my bed. He looked down at my notes and nodded approvingly.

"Almost done?" he asked.

"I wish," I laughed. "I was very sloppy when I did this work, and most of it was wrong to begin with. I managed to figure out most of it at Rankow, but there is still a good deal left."

"Well, then I have good news," he said. "The Politburo met this morning, and Ustinov tells me that we have the components for the missile now. All that's left is the bomb itself."

"Excellent!" I said, sitting up straight in happiness.

"But that is not the reason why I am here," he said. "May I have the remote?"

I handed it to him and he changed the channel. Now it was a live coverage of the United Nation's emergency meeting, where the representatives from all the nations were sitting down to discuss the current world matters, which was centered all on the attacks on Tobolsk and Soilkamsk.

"The President gave me something to send to Comrade Churkin," he said. "It was marked confidential to the highest degree."

"You looked at it?" I shook at my head with a chuckle.

"Da, and I wanted you to see what it was," he grinned.

Vitaly Churkin, our ambassador to the UN stood up and faced Ambassador Anastassis Mitsialis of Greece.

"Mr. Ambassador," began Mitsialis. "My president has instructed me to inform you that the Russian Federation has no right to make false accusations towards Greece."

"We have made no accusations of that sort," said Churkin, calmly.

"You recant your earlier statements?" Mitsialis looked confused.

"No, I am stating that we have made no such _false_ accusations," Churkin said. "Greece is responsible for the deaths of over ten thousand innocent people and yet you deny it while the evidence is displayed in front of you and the world."

"Mr. Mitsialis," said Sir Mark Lyall Grant of the United Kingdom. "We have all seen the communication, sent from your nation to your embassy where it was then passed on to a remote intercepting station in the Mediterranean."

"There was no such communication!" protested Mitsialis. "My nation is being framed!"

"There was also a testimony from the commanding officer of the army sent to Tobolsk," said Churkin as he pulled out a sheet of paper. "It was heard by multiple people, many of them our police officers, before said officer was executed for obvious war crimes and crimes against humanity."

Churkin paused as the document was sent to the personal viewing devices of each ambassador.

"The officer claimed that he received an order to sail from the Island of Crete," Churkin said, "where his army was stationed before marching east around our border guards. Our intelligence service has managed to pinpoint their exact route, using the trail of destruction they left behind as they marched into Siberia. On the bottom of the document, there is a map, showing the borders he crossed before he began invading Russia."

"This is an outrage!" screamed Li Baodong from the People's Republic of China as he looked at the route shown by the map. "This man crossed into Chinese territory, attacking our people!"

He turned to Mitsialis, fury raging in his eyes. "How does Greece respond to this?" he snarled.

"I say again," said Mitsialis. "My nation gave no such order. There has been no destruction to China done by Greek soldiers."

"Lies!" cried Baodong. "I would like to inform the United Nations of an occurrence that until now was kept top secret. But given these circumstances, I believe that the world must know of this. Two months ago, we received a distress signal from a town far northeast along the Russian border. When our military personnel got there, there was nothing there but rubble and bodies, identical to what was found at Tobolsk. There were no survivors there, just like in Russia. The People's Republic will not stand for this…this…this _crime_ against our citizens!"

Murmurs swept the room and I noticed that Mitsialis was beginning to sweat through his shirt at being faced with the anger of a current an ex-world superpower.

"I…pass my turn to the American Ambassador," he said, trying to save himself.

Susan Rice stood up to room full of shocked men, but faced only Churkin and Baodong.

"Gentlemen," she said. "Mr. Mitsialis's statements warrant an investigation in my eyes. What if this was a setup? What if we are all in danger from a terrorist organization?"

"His statements warrant his own death!" Baodong was screaming now. "The People's Republic of China demands immediate reparations for the loss of life in our territory!"

"As does the Soviet Union," Churkin said with a smile.

The room froze, just as my mouth dropped open. Beside me, Uncle Yuri chuckled at my expression. "This is what I wanted you to see," he said.

Back in the General Assembly room, the ambassadors were getting over their shock.

"Mr. Churkin," asked Rice. "Would you mind clarifying your last statement?"

"The Russian Federation is now disbanded," Churkin said with pride. "I am honored to inform the United Nations that the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics has now been rebuilt and will be returning to world affairs."

More murmurs filled the room as a man came and switched out the "Russian Federation" nameplate for "Union of Soviet Socialist Republics."

"Furthermore," Churkin said. "My nation demands that Greece hand over the members of this "terrorist organization" to my government for them to be tried for their crimes against the Soviet Union and the People's Republic of China."

"But we don't know who is to blame!" Mitsialis cried, now begging for the inevitable to halt.

"Ambassador Churkin, please consider your words," said Gérard Araud of France.

"Does France wish to share Greece's pain?" asked Baodong.

"Is that a threat?" asked Araud.

"No, it is a warning," said Churkin before turning to Baodong. "On behalf of Premier Putin, the Soviet Union wishes to form an alliance with the People's Republic of China."

Baodong nodded. "I must first discuss this with my government," he said.

"Italy asks that the Soviet Union stand down," asked Cesare Maria Ragaglini of Italy. "Further investigation is needed on this matter."

"I would like to point out that Italy has no jurisdiction over the Soviet Union," Churkin said. "And any orders given to me or my nation on how we conduct ourselves by an Italian official will be taken as a declaration of war."

"France seconds the motion," said Araud, "for the Soviet Union to consider what it is saying to the United Nations."

Mitsialis started to calm down, seeing that Greece was now being backed by a nuclear superpower and another powerful nation.

"The United Kingdom wishes to withdraw itself from this issue," said Grant. "My nation does not wish to involve our people in this conflict."

"But…NATO!" said Araud. "The treaty states that."

"We all know what the treaty states," said Susan Rice. "However, the portion of the treaty you are referring to only covers attack by the _old_ USSR. If the new Soviet Union wishes to make war with Greece and its allies, President Obama has just instructed me to inform the UN that the United States will not be taking part in any military act of aggression or retaliation against the USSR unless America is directly attacked."

"Germany would like to inform the Soviet Union that any military action towards our border will be taken as a hostile attempt on our sovereignty," Peter Wittig said. "And I have been instructed to inform Italy that German military support will be provided if necessary."

The rest of the meeting began to go in circles where Greece became the prime focus of hostile threats and declarations. Uncle Yuri turned off the TV and turned to me.

"So I won't need to hide this anymore eh?" I say, rolling up my sleeve to look at my tattoo. The red hammer and sickle tingled a little as it was exposed to the air.

Uncle Yuri laughed. "No, I guess we won't," he said, patting his own shoulder where his tattoo was hidden beneath his suit. "What about your other tattoo?"

"This?" I asked, showing the skull with the nuclear symbol etched into it, the words surrounding it curving as they passed over the curve of my bicep.

"Yes this one," he said. "Why did you decide to get another one? I remember you howling when you got your first."

"I got this one after Natalia defected," I sighed. "I wanted to make something permanent, I guess. Marking my own body with what I believed in seemed like the best idea."

I looked down at the skull, the empty black sockets staring back at me as my gaze traced over the words.

"Vot, Ya yesm' smerti. Razrushitelem mirov?" Uncle Yuri read aloud. _(Behold I am death. Destroyer of worlds.)_

I nodded. "I was thinking about getting another one," I admitted.

"Another?" Uncle Yuri was surprised. "Nikolai, you're a scientist, not a street punk in a gang. Why mark yourself again?"

"I was just thinking," I shrugged. "But I suppose it is a bad idea."

He nodded and we just sat there a little more. I adjusted my bandage back over my shoulder, careful not to irritate my wound.

"So who do we have in America?" I asked.

"CARDINAL," he replied. "He used to work for the GRU, now he's an economic thief. He's the reason our economy has been improving enough to rebuild the old regime."

"Who are our field agents there?" I asked.

"We have fifty personnel staffing a facility under Wall Street," he said. "Their commanding officer after CARDINAL is Colonel Klementi Ivan'ch Suvorov."

"Who's he?" I asked.

"One of the best agents we have," he said. "He was in the same class as Natalia back here. He was trained as an interrogator during his first internship at fifteen, when we were short of recruits, but his methods were…messy, and often torturous. More often, he would kill the prisoner instead of making him talk. But he made his name, which was his goal. He was reassigned as an assassin, which was where he met Natalia. He was her rival, becoming deadly efficient and ruthless. I think the two of them may have worked together a few times on hits."

"She's in America," I said.

Uncle Yuri snapped to attention. "Chto?" he asked. _(What?)_

"She's the one who stopped up the hole in my shoulder," I said. "In Havana, she was there with Jackson and Chase. She killed Cortez…she saved my life, Uncle Yuri. She must be working with them."

"Or she _is_ one of them," he said. "She never knew her mother, did she?"

"No," I said. "And her father never spoke of her when I was around him."

"She might have been a spy this whole time!" Uncle Yuri said before muttering "fool!" under his breath.

"Do you think that Suvorov could track her?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," he replied. "But I will send something to him. Natalia is still a priority-nexus target. If we can put her away, then we're all set to move ahead with the plan."

"Do it," I croaked, my throat becoming dry. "She betrayed us…she needs to pay."

He nodded and patted my head as I started to feel sleepy thanks to the pain medication I was on. "Get some sleep," he said. "I'll come back when you're awake."

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(Anika Klaus)

(Berlin, Germany)

(Two Days Later…)

"Heilig scheiße!" _(Holy Shit!)_

I woke up to the sound of someone's shout of surprise and profanity. I rolled over in bed and looked at my clock. It was 6:07 in the morning, way too early for me to be awake on a Saturday and I was too tired from the ordeal that I went through last night. My wrist was still slightly sore from using so much. I groaned and put my pillow over my head as my aunt walked down the hallway to my doorway.

"Anika?" she asked.

"Ja?" I yawned. "Who's downstairs?"

"Come and see for yourself," she smiled through the crack in my doorway.

"Auntie, who is it?" I groaned, my pillow muffling my voice.

"Anika, get out of bed," she said, coming into my room and nudging my side.

I shook my head and pulled the covers up over my head and the pillow covering it. It was colder than usual today, so I was more inclined to stay in bed where it was nice and warm. Aunt Johanna just clucked her tongue and pulled the covers off my body, exposing me to the cold morning air. I yelped and curled into a ball, shivering right away.

"Anika Klaus, get up right now," she said.

"Fine, fine," I yawned and rubbed my eyes.

Satisfied that I was up now, Aunt Johanna turned to leave and go back downstairs but caught sight of a huge error that I had made the night before.

"What is _this_?" she nearly yelled, pointing at my wall.

I turned and winced. Stuck on my wall with a thumbtack was the photo of mein freund _(my boyfriend)_, Kurt, and me sitting together on our three year anniversary, which happened to also be my birthday. But stuck right in the bastard's chest was the blade of my grandfather's nahkampfmesser army combat knife. And around the photo were slashes in the wall from all the times I had missed.

I had been out with friends last night, walking around Berlin and just chatting about life when I saw Kurt get into a taxi with some strange girl who was dressed like a prostitute. As the cab drove off, I saw him kiss her through the window. I didn't know what to do, so I just ditched my friends and ran home, trying to hold my tears back until I was alone. I had just grabbed the first sharp thing I could get my hands on, which was my grandfather's knife from World War Two and stabbed the picture once before plunging the knife into the photo in the most creative ways I could think of, which included cartwheels, flips, and throwing the knife like my father had once shown me.

"Anika, why is your grandfather's knife in the wall?" Aunt Johanna's voice brought me back to reality.

"Kurt…" I said, allowing my emotions out of their box.

"What did he do?" she asked me, sitting on the bed next to me.

"I think…I think he cheated on me," I sniffed.

Aunt Johanna's eyes widened momentarily, but then narrowed, her face pursed in a mask of anger.

"Is that why you came home early?" she asked. "And why you slept in your clothes?"

I nodded, forgetting that I was still wearing my jeans and sweater. Aunt Johanna hugged me tight and I allowed myself to cry a little bit to ease some of the tensions in my body. I don't cry much, not even when I'm in pain. Emotions don't really sit well with me, especially bad ones. I wiped my eyes and stood up, taking grandpa's knife out of the picture and returning it to the sheathe that was on the floor where I had left it.

"You think you can go to practice today?" she asked me as I began picking out my outfit for the day.

"I'm fine," I said. "Besides, the competition is only a few days away. I need to be perfect."

She smiled. "Your father is downstairs," she said. "He decided to come see you at the competition."

"My dad is here?" I asked.

"He swore at something as I was coming up to get you," she said. "They're in the kitchen now."

Something shattered on the floor downstairs, something made of glass. Aunt Johanna scowled and yelled at the door.

"Hans, be more careful!" she said, yelling at her younger brother just like they were still kids.

I ran downstairs and tackled my father as he was trying to pick up the pieces of the cup he had just dropped. I caught him by surprise, so he stumbled back a few feet.

"Anika, whoa!" he laughed as he got his balance and hugged me. "Schatz, you grew!" _(Sweetheart)_

"What made you come here?" I asked, knowing how busy his job was.

"I wanted to see my little girl at her gymnastics competition," he laughed as I let go and stood before him. "Wow. You look just like your mother."

My mother had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in October of the year when I turned five. The doctors had said that she wouldn't live to see Christmas, breaking my father's heart. Grandpa was also in the hospital at the time, suffering from Alzheimer's disease, a case so advanced that he was unable to remember how to stand. He had fallen down a flight of stairs at his nursing home and hit his head, landing him in intensive care. Mom shared a room with him during her time at the hospital, and most of the time the both of them were silent as their bodies slowly shut down. Dad didn't want me to see either of them, but Aunt Johanna had smuggled me in to see them, saying that she was showing her niece where she worked, in surgery. Mom wasn't looking too good from her chemotherapy, and grandpa was just lying there breathing. But when I walked in, my mother's face lit up and she sat up to hug me. I didn't understand what was going on and I asked if she was going anywhere since the doctors had told me that she would be in a better place soon. She said no and that she was going to stay here for a while until she got better.

Then something remarkable happened. Grandpa rolled over and looked at us. Behind the breathing mask he was wearing, he smiled and waved to me, which was strange because the doctors told me he had forgotten his own name. But he knew who I was, and I know that to be a fact because he looked straight in my eyes and said my name "Anika." After that, he passed out and slept. I spent the night with my mom in her hospital bed, despite dad's protests. Mom had refused and said that she wanted to be with me as much as she could. I decided to spend every second I had with mom, skipping school so I could be with her. Most times she told me to go back to school, but sometimes after a surgery or chemotherapy, she would let me stay.

Grandpa had died later that night when he said my name, but I didn't find out until later that month. In his will, he gave his entire fortune to mom and dad. He willed his knife to me and his house to Aunt Johanna. He said that we should have the things we needed most to survive the coming future, although I don't know what he meant to this day.

The doctors had said that mom would die before December, but somehow she proved them wrong. She fought her cancer for another twelve months, never giving up. But soon she realized that her time had come and asked for dad to stay with her. Dad skipped work for a whole week to stay with her. Monday through Saturday, he was at her side. But when he was called out to work for an emergency, he had to leave her alone. When he got back, she was dead from a heart attack. Dad broke apart, not coming home at night from work, sleeping at his office. Once, I didn't see him for a whole month!

This kept going for years and I was confused at what was going on. He wouldn't tell me, so I decided to let it go. But when I was ten, Aunt Johanna decided to tell me something. She said that mom hadn't died of a natural heart attack. She had been given something in her IV pouch, some strange chemical that had made her have a heart attack. She had been murdered by an "Angel of Death," a person who thinks that people who are going to die should be killed humanely to end whatever pain they're in. She said that dad was trying to find the Angel who had killed mom and give him justice. Later in life, dad became more and more open about his private case. As a detective, it was his job to make sure that people who broke the law are punished for what they do. I understood that, but didn't understand why dad wanted to have the man killed. Dad was blinded by his own hatred and need for revenge, even if it cut him off from his family.

Ever since mom died, I promised myself that I wouldn't get emotional like dad did over anything. I didn't want to go down the same path of vengeance and end up somewhere I didn't want to be. I avoided people who were wastes of time, the "popular kids" and the perverts who only spoke to girls for their own reasons. One of my report cards had said that I was a good student, but too independent in a classroom. It was true and I was proud of it. I had a sharp tongue and wasn't afraid of being blunt with people. Beating around the bush was a waste of time. I had a few friends who didn't mind my personality quirks, and to them I was very loyal. They weren't wastes of time and they were always very fun to be around. Kurt was now the only exception, that cocksucking schweine hund! _(Swine hound [a fairly potent insult])_

But I did have my mother's traits; something that dad said I should be proud of. I was a little tall for a seventeen year old girl, but I made up for it in keeping my body fit and slim thanks to gymnastics. I had my mother's face as well, which was something I was personally proud of. Unlike my father and Aunt Johanna, I had long, very straight brown hair and smooth pale skin instead of short cropped blonde hair and tan skin. But somewhere, the Klaus family blue eyes had wormed their way in to my genome, when my mother had brown eyes.

"Hans, why did you curse a few minutes ago?" Aunt Johanna asked as she came down the stairs.

"Oh, just something I read in the paper," he said. "Apparently, the USSR has just been reformed."

"Will the Russians come here?" she asked, a trace of fear glinting in her eyes.

"Probably not," he sighed. "They want war with Greece, though…about the massacre that happened out in Siberia last month. China's also jumped in with them for something that happened along their borders. 'Looks like they're in alliance talks right now."

"But have they made any threats towards us?" she asked.

"No, but President Gauck has promised military support to Greece, Italy, and France if the Russians or Chinese attack," he said, checking the article for the facts.

"What will happen if there is war with Germany?" I asked.

"The Russians will probably move their army to begin a bombardment of our cities," Aunt Johanna said.

"They'll push west until they take Berlin, then they'll fortify it with everything they've got," dad told me. "After that they'll just pummel any opposition with their air force as well as the Chinese's to the ground so that their ground forces can move."

I was a bit surprised at his knowledge of this issue, but my father has always been a cautious man.

"What will that mean for us?" I asked. "If Russia makes war with Germany, what will we do?"

"We'll run," he said. "Maybe we'll go to England, or America."

"Why run?" I asked. "The Russians wouldn't execute civilians? It's a war crime to do so."

He sighed and clasped his head. "I guess you're old enough to know," he sighed.

He was silent a little longer before he spoke again. "Anika, you've been studying the Second World War in your history class, ja?"

I nodded and he sat down at the table with a sigh.

"You know how the Russians showed no mercy on us when they fought at Stalingrad and Berlin?" he said. "How they rolled through our streets, not offering us a chance to surrender? It was Hitler's decision to attack Russia after he made an agreement with Stalin, as the books say, right?"

I nodded.

"The books are wrong," he said. "Hitler was pressured into attacking Russia by a young man known as Franz Kerner. He tricked Hitler into thinking that the Soviets intended to attack Berlin after they carved up Poland, even making fake documents with Stalin's signature. Hitler fell for it hard and ordered the invasion of Russia."

He was silent again and rubbed his face.

"Hans, let me take over," Aunt Johanna said, offering me a seat.

"I don't understand," I said. "Why is this important? What does this have to do with us?"

"It has everything to do with us, Anika," she said. "After the death toll in the Russia Campaign grew from the thousands to the millions, Kerner was ecstatic. But he wanted even more deaths, to shape the world after the ideas of his own father, not Hitler. He met with his father, a mysterious man from a foreign land. His father said the only way to bring people under control is to dominate them and crush their hopes and that any who thought otherwise were to be exterminated. Kerner, acting under the orders of his father, told Hitler to build Auschwitz and the other death camps and to begin genocide on the Jews. Hitler believed that everything was coming from him and that he was a genius. But it was Franz Kerner who was truly responsible for the deaths of millions of Russians and sixteen million innocent Jews killed at the death camps."

She grasped my hand. "Anika…," she said. "Before he could be caught by the Soviets, Franz Kerner vanished. He disappeared from the earth and turned up a few years later in Munich with a wife and a new name."

"He had taken his wife's name to hide his crimes," dad said. "_Klaus_. Franz Kerner was now Franz _Klaus,_ our ancestor. The Russians captured him as he tried to return to Berlin and had him and his wife executed in 1963 under conviction of being spies and his identity remaining secure. He wrote a journal and had it sent to his children so he could tell them of what he had brought about with no regrets and urged them to continue what he had started with Hitler. His children refused, and let the Russians shoot him for target practice. They tried so hard to clear their name, but eventually they had to hide or the Russians would have executed them."

I was shaking. My ancestor…was responsible for the deaths, no, the _genocide_ of millions of innocents. He was the reason that Russians hated Germans. And…I was his descendent.

I was related to _Nazis_.

I got up, my mind swimming with emotions. My hands clenched and unclenched but I kept my face stoic and calm. I felt like I was trying to hold back a tidal wave with a sponge, but I somehow managed to not show my feelings on my face.

"So we have to run so we won't be executed by the Russians?" I asked, my voice in a higher pitch than I wanted it to be.

"If they find out who we are, yes," Dad nodded.

I didn't say anything so he continued, trying to sooth my invisible emotional firestorm.

"It's not like we choose this to happen," he said. "The knife you have belonged to Franz, not your grandfather. He never served in the war, he was a journalist."

"So my whole life has been nothing but a lie?" I said, my sharp tongue beginning to show itself. "Did mother know? Did she support this insane story I'm hearing? I am related to the man who is responsible for the deaths of millions! I am the living proof of the Third Reich's survival!"

"Nein!" Aunt Johanna said, standing up. "Stop that insanity right now, Anika! Of course your mother knew about this, we had to tell her in case we were discovered by the Russians. But she loved your father, and she loved you too much to let that stand in her way of being with you!"

"Anika," dad touched my hand and I stiffened. "Schatz, please listen to me…you are no more a Nazi than I am. Kerner died at the hands of those he wronged in 1963, leaving behind the children he had as part of his disguise to hide from the Russians. We are just more people he wronged. But he is dead now, and the old Reich is now nothing more than a few words in the history books."

He stood up all the way and hugged me close. "You are a beautiful girl," he said, stroking my hair. "Your mother would be so proud of you. But I will make myself very clear…you are _not_ a Nazi. Do you understand?"

I nodded, my eyes slightly itching as some tears welled up behind them. I hugged him back and I felt him smile as he kissed my head.

"I have the day off," he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out two slips of paper. "So I thought you and I could go to the Museum of Technology for the day and have lunch before your gymnastics practice. How's that sound?"

I smiled. "Danke, vater," I said as I gave him another hug. It wasn't often that I got to spend time with my real dad and not the man who chased after mom's killer. _(Thank you, dad.)_

A car door slammed close in the driveway and Aunt Johanna peaked out the kitchen window to see who it was. Her lips turned down in a snarl and she stormed to the closet where she kept grandpa's old hunting shotgun.

"Johanna, what's going on?" dad asked as she began assembling the weapon on the kitchen table.

"Kurt is outside," she said.

My blood boiled at his name and my hands clenched into tight fists, my knuckles turning white as I forced the blood out of them. Dad had a confused look as he looked at me with my fists clenched and Aunt Johanna with the shotgun.

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" he asked, scratching his head. "Anika, Kurt is your boyfriend, right?"

"Not anymore," Aunt Johanna said as I tried to be rational. "Anika saw him get into a cab with a hooker last night. He's cheated on her, the arschloch." _(Asshole)_

Dad's eyebrows shot up and his hand reflexively went to his side. Aunt Johanna noticed and rolled her eyes. "Hans, did you bring your pistol?" she asked.

He nodded and started for the door. "I'm only going to have a little chat with Kurt," he told us. "Johanna, put the shotgun away and Anika, relax your hands right now. Both of you will calm down now so after I'm done speaking to him, you can say what you need to say."

Aunt Johanna sighed and put the shotgun away back into its case before sweeping up the mess from dad's broken coffee cup. I sat down and listened as the doorbell rang. Father waited a second before opening it. I couldn't see him or Kurt, but I could hear the both of them just fine.

"Hey, Mr. Klaus," Kurt was surprised to see my dad as I had been.

"Good morning Kurt," my dad said as if he wasn't angry at him at all. Being a detective, he routinely had to switch from being a "good cop" to a "bad cop" when interrogating convicts. It had made him a very good actor. "What can I do for you today?"

"Well, I just wanted to see Anika," he said. "Is she home now?"

"She is," dad said and I could just picture him nodding. "But Kurt, I would like to speak to you for a minute about Anika, is that alright?"

"Uh, okay," he said, not realizing that he was busted.

Dad closed the door and muffled their voices as he and Kurt had their conversation outside. I looked at Aunt Johanna for advice on what to do when Kurt came in. She rolled her eyes and pointed upstairs.

"How accurate is your throw?" she asked.

"What?" I said, a little surprised.

"Your knife-throwing abilities," she said. "Could you miss him on purpose and hit the doorframe or the wall behind him when he comes in?"

"Probably," I said. "But isn't that illegal to do to someone?"

"In my book, breaking my niece's heart is a capital offense," she said. "Give him a reason never to come back."

I grinned and ran upstairs to my room. I grabbed grandfat…no, _Kerner's_ knife from where I'd left it and dashed back down stairs, unsheathing the blade behind my back. I was just in time, as the door opened up and Kurt walked in, escorted by my dad. I could almost see my dad holding his Sig Sauer p226 to Kurt's back, it would match the guilty look on Kurt's face. I stopped at the middle of the stairs and just watched Kurt from my position as dad pointed him at a kitchen chair. His chocolate brown hair was messy and his green eyes were bloodshot, saying he'd had a rough night.

_That's one way to put it;_ I grimaced inwardly at the thought. **(A/N: dirty joke, teehee!)**

"Kurt, what did you want to say to my daughter?" dad asked as he directed Kurt into the chair.

"Well…Anika, I…um" was all he could say.

He was ashamed of himself, which was something I found nice. Maybe he had gotten drunk at a party and only got a prostitute under the influence of alcohol? I shook my head. No, I wouldn't give him a second chance with me. Betray me once and you're as good as dead to me.

"Kurt, I know what you did!" I shouted, since he was just stuttering and not apologizing for anything. "I saw you get into the cab with that hooker, I know everything!"

He looked up, a shred of confidence surging to the surface of his face. "But this wasn't my first time!" he said. "Okay? I'm sorry, Anika, I really am! It's just that you're not into taking our relationship to the next level until we're both adults. I get bored sometimes, okay?"

Something inside me snapped and I felt my eye twitch.

"How many times have you done this?" my voice was shaking with anger. I can't remember the last time I was pissed off.

"I lost count," he admitted, hanging his head in shame. "I'll stop, alright? No more hookers, no more drinking, I'll just be honest with you from now on, okay mein libeling?" _(My darling.)_

That tore it. I hurled the knife down at him with deadly force, only aiming at his general direction. I didn't care if I killed him at this point. Aunt Johanna was right, my heart was the thing I cared the most about.

I suppose I got lucky with the throw because the knife buried itself in the wood of the kitchen chair he was sitting on, right between his legs and not an inch away from his…special place. He yelped in surprise and tried to jump away, but dad forced him to stay in the chair as I stormed down the stairs and over to him.

"Don't you _ever_ call me that again!" I snarled. "I'm not your darling anymore, Kurt! We're done! I never want to see you again, you bastard!"

"Anika," he whimpered as I pulled the knife out and held the tip to his neck. "Watch where you point that thing!"

"Get out," I said. "Don't ever speak to me again, Kurt."

Dad let him go and he ran out the door. I heard his car start and he tore out of the driveway with a screech. Dad inspected the gouge the knife left in the chair, rubbing his finger over the blade mark.

"Nice shot," he said. "I didn't know you could throw knives, Anika."

"She had a lot of practice last night on Kurt's photo," Aunt Johanna smiled as she hugged me. "That's my girl."

"Thanks, Auntie," I told her. "Can we go to the museum now, dad?"

"Sure thing, baby" he smiled as I got my jacket and followed him out to the car.

As we got into his police car and pulled out of the driveway, I felt good about my life. Kurt was never going to bother me again, and now my dad was spending his day off with me. I was very happy right then, and I knew that my life could only get better from here on out. Soviets or not, nothing could spoil this wonderful day I was having.

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(Pyotr Veliky)

(Tobolsk, Siberia, USSR)

_He's gotten better,_ I noticed as I watched Devin creep down the mountain.

His white camouflage clothing helped him blend in with the snow on the mountainside, so to any man watching, he was invisible. But to me, it was a different story. His footprints stood out in the snow way too much, giving him away when I followed them up to his body. His rifle was probably held tight against his chest to prevent its dark color from drawing attention in the white blanket that covered the land.

_He's gotten outside the danger zone_, I realized with great happiness. _He's finally learned how to advance!_

The last two days had been spent with Devin running what he said Americans called "the gauntlet." I didn't see why they would call it that, since it was only an obstacle course that I had come up with. The objective was simple. Advance through the wilderness and through the fields outside Tobolsk. He was using an AK-47 rifle that I had found at the old police station, along with enough ammunition to fend off a platoon of soldiers so he wouldn't run out of ammunition for the rifle he had brought with him. After he crept through the fields, he would need to sneak through the ruins of Tobolsk, over to Town Hall, and climb to the roof to take the flag I had put there down. What made it hard was that I would try to snipe him whenever I got the chance. Even though we both had bulletproof vests on and I wasn't using the DU rounds, I wouldn't shoot him on purpose. I would only shoot next to his foot or a few feet to his side. This was his sixth run on the course, and he had only made it to the end of the fields on his farthest try. He could shoot back at me, I was sure that I would be fine. But so far he had learned that loud gunfire would only give him away, after he fired two magazines worth of ammunition blindly at the hilltops, trying to get me to duck and give him an opportunity.

I had already come to the conclusion that he would never be a potent sniper. He'd agreed and asked for me to teach him how to be a good "SpecOps" soldier. He had defined it as a person who usually works with a small, elite team of soldiers, to do tasks that would be considered suicidal. I was happy to teach him how to keep his cool under pressure; it was something that we both needed to practice. This test that I had come up with had become a game to both of us, like chess or another strategy game that depended on your own cunning and intelligence. And I was not about to lose this game now.

I shifted my scope to track him as he moved into the shadow of the buildings at the edge of the city. He was in the 'safe zone' now, which meant I would need to get a clear line of sight to win this round. I knew which way he would come, so it was now a race to see who would get there first. I cast one last look at Devin's now upright form before I tore back down the hillside and crossed into town. We had buried the bodies of those slaughtered over by the woods, so that their souls could know peace and also because we didn't want them to be a distraction. Now the streets were clean of bodies, but the buildings we had left in their state of ruin to make the course more interesting.

I bolted towards what had once been the city library, a three story stone building which had lost most of its interior to looting monsters its roof was gone, which allowed me to see the entire street. It was a good position because the glass of the third floor windows had clouded over with frost, making illusions of what was inside. I ran inside and crept forwards with my Tokarev in case he had managed to get ahead of me. I climbed the stairs up to the second floor, making sure to sweep the shadows for him. I found nothing as I climbed up to the third floor and cracked open a window.

I paused and quickly backed away from the opening and over to a table nearby. I slung my rifle and aimed out the window down through the scope. Devin would come right down the avenue, sticking close to the cars for cover. But he hadn't seen the trick yet. The first floor windows of the buildings that lined the street acted like mirrors thanks to the elements. Right now, both of them were black as the pavement under the ice. But if Devin crossed in front of them, they would flash white thanks to his coat. He was trapped like a rat, and besides he had no experience on this stretch of the course.

I kept a careful eye on the windows, waiting for them to turn white. But nothing was happening, nothing at all. I looked away from the scope and thought for a moment. What was taking him so long? He should have been here earlier…much earlier. Either something was wrong or…

I realized that I had been tricked a little too late. The rooftop of the building to my right suddenly flashed as Devin started firing on my position. I felt something hit me in the stomach hard, almost as if I had been hit by a car. My vest had stopped the bullet from killing me, but it still hurt like hell. I wheezed and fell backwards as the rest of the shots started cutting apart the window where I had been aiming out of. Coughing hard as I tried to regain my breath, I scooted back from the window on my stomach. He had outsmarted me…and done a good job with it as well.

_Hunting him will be fun,_ I thought with a grin. _Even though I've sworn not to kill him, that does not mean payback is out of the question._

"Are you alright?" I heard him yell from across the street.

"Da!" I yelled back as I coughed again, my body still needing to replace some air. "You got me in the stomach, though!"

"Sorry!" he said.

"You've gotten better!" I told him as I got to my feet and went next to the window so we were within speaking distance, but still in hiding so he couldn't take another shot. "I admit, you've beat me this time. You've beaten the course as well. No doubt you would have captured the flag now that I'm 'dead'."

He laughed. "I'm a slow learner," he said.

I laughed back. "Took you long enough to figure it out," I said. "Let's go home, I'm getting cold."

"See you there," he said, and probably turned around to go back home.

"One more thing," I called.

I spun to my right and leveled my rifle as he turned back around to face the building. I fired once and caught him in the middle of his vest. He fell over, coughing as the bullet's impact forced the wind out of him. The AK-47 fell out of his hands as well, allowing me to get the ultimate drop on him.

"Your last lesson," I called. "Never trust your enemy. Especially when he says you've won!"

"I'll remember it," he said as he got to his feet and limped away, holding his gut where the bullet had struck him.

I walked away in a similar fashion, my stomach throbbing as I walked. Being shot hurts, I noted, as this was my first time taking a bullet instead of giving one. My boots crunched in the snow and ice on the ground as I walked along towards my house, leaving behind the same kind of footprints I had seen Devin leave back in the fields.

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(Devin Longhart)

(Tobolsk, USSR)

"That fucking hurt!" I said to myself as I walked along the road back to Pyotr's house.

I was glad we had found these vests in the police station, since it had just certainly saved my life. He was right though, about trusting your enemy. It was a mistake, although I admit I deserved it. Hitting him had been an accident, and I suppose justice was now served accordingly.

Training with Veliky here had been one of the best things I had ever done in my life. It had been much better than those stupid Camp Half-Blood activities, which had all been designed with the principle of "safety first," as Mr. D had said. Bullshit! If we applied what we had learned there to a real fight, we were more likely to get our fucking asses kicked. Here, I could be what I was meant to be: a soldier. Not a Greek Demigod holding a sword, an American soldier with a rifle. Veliky was the same, he was a Russian sniper. War was our job, and we did it well.

I admit I had been a little reluctant about using live rounds in this exercise, even with the vests there was a chance of one of us missing. But Pyotr was dead set on using them. He said "there is no better training than fighting to survive," and it turns out he was right. My body had gotten stronger, especially my legs and core from running through the snow. And I had been able to finally outsmart my teacher in his own game. I was turning into a true kickass SpecOps soldier. I couldn't wait until Clarisse saw how much I had improved. Speaking of Clarisse, I wondered how she was going to take this. I mean, I had run away on a crazy revenge mission in my own and her name and ended up learning how to kill from the boy who had nearly killed the both of us. It wasn't a very romantic thing, I know. But I was a child of Thantos, not that makeup addict, Aphrodite.

That was another thing I had come to like about Russia; there were no gods. I don't know how, but they couldn't hear what you said. I had spent one morning outside, complaining on how Hera was a jealous bitch and nothing had happened. After I figured it out, I had screamed about how much I hated my dad for leaving and for not saving mom. It had taken a lot off my chest, but Pyotr thought I was crazy for screaming at the sky. Man, that had been a hard explanation to give.

I slowly started to jog back to Pyotr's house, the steady crunch-crunch of my boots in the snow as the only sound I heard. As I rounded the bend in the road, I saw him walking along, limping slightly from the bullet. He gave me an admiring smile and walked over to me. He put his arm around my shoulder and shook me slightly as we walked.

"Excellent," he said. "That was an excellent idea, Devin Stepanovich, using the rooftops to find me."

"I learned from the best, Pyotr Vissarionovich," I said.

I had decided to learn Russian from Pyotr so that I could blend in better with locals. Having a bronze medallion with Greek symbols on it in a place where Greeks are hated wasn't a smart move. I had stopped carrying the necklace at all, speaking free Russian with Pyotr in the house and on our little 'games' in the city. He had taught me as much Russian as he could; how to read and write it as well as speak it, although my accent wasn't that good. In exchange, I taught him English, although his accent was worse than mine. We had become good friends, he and I. He had forgotten all about hunting Artemis by now, and only focused on spending time upholding his promise to teach me.

"We'll have a drink," he said as he reached for the doorknob to open the door, "to celebrate your victory!"

"Devin Longhart!"

Right away, my new battle-instincts kicked in. The AK-47 in my hands flashed up and aimed at the door, right where I had heard the voice come from. Veliky spun to his right and pressed himself against the thickest part of the wall, drawing his pistol and knife. He pressed a finger to his lips and jerked his head at the door. I nodded and pulled my ski mask down over my face as Pyotr adjusted his hat so it covered his face. We waited a few seconds to see if the intruder identified him or herself, but we heard nothing. With a shrug of apathy, Pyotr threw the door open and I moved inside, sweeping the area with my rifle. Pyotr covered my six (backside) and moved in, sweeping the kitchen and bedrooms. We split up and walked for the family room, approaching the door from two separate sides. From inside, I could hear the sound of a drink being poured. I looked at Veliky, who lifted his hat enough to see his face and grinned, jerking his head at the door.

"Friend of yours?" he mouthed.

I shrugged and rolled my mask up over my mouth. "Not sure," I mouthed back.

"Breach the doorway," he mouthed, "and see if he's a friend. If he's not, kill him."

I nodded and backed up as I pulled my mask back down, keeping my rifle pointed at the door. I ran forwards and kicked at the handle. The door caved in and I ran inside, aiming down the sights at…

"Mr. D?" I asked.

Dionysus stared at me blankly, the glass of wine in his hands swishing as he took a drink. "Who else?" he asked, obviously bored already with the conversation.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, not lowering the rifle.

"I came here to tell you," he said, refilling the glass with the bottle that sat on the table, "that Artemis has made a recovery. Zeus is very happy with you coming out here to this frozen wasteland to kill that pesky sniper."

"Hey, fuck you!" Pyotr said in his accented English as he came in, his pistol still drawn and now aimed at the Wine God's head. "Russia is not a wasteland!"

Mr. D's eyes bugged out of his head at the sight of the Russian giant standing before him.

"Get out of my father's chair!" Pyotr continued as he grabbed Mr. D and hauled him up by his shoulder.

"Devin, who is this?" Mr. D asked.

"Pyotr Veliky," I sighed and lowered the rifle. "Pyotr, this is."

"I know, I saw him when I shot Artemis," he said, still dragging Dionysus towards the door.

"You're the sniper?" Mr. D turned red and glared at me. "Devin, you've betrayed us all!"

"No, no, I came here to kill him," I said, grabbing my temples as Pyotr paused in the hallway. "But when I saw what happened here…I just couldn't do it. Mr. D, Pyotr is the only survivor of this massacre. Everyone else here was killed by King Minos and an army heading for Moscow. They were sent by Gaea, who then told the Russians that Artemis had ordered this to happen so Pyotr would go and attack her to start a war between us and them."

"But why is Artemis getting better?" he asked. "If he's alive, then how?"

"He promised to give up hunting her," I said, not wanting to put Pyotr on the spot, seeing that he didn't know a lot of English. "He's hunting me instead."

"Devin is my friend," Pyotr said. "He is good person. I promise not to kill him, and I teach him how to fight."

"Is this true?" Mr. D asked.

I nodded. "I'm learning a lot," I said. "Much more than I learned back at Camp."

"And you say you will still fight for us?" he asked.

I nodded. He rubbed his chin and looked at Pyotr.

"Put me down," he said and Pyotr dropped him. "Devin, I would like to see what you've learned from this Russian. Here's the deal; Percy, Annabeth, Thalia, and a group of hunters are on their way here. They will arrive in three hours. If you can defeat all of them, then I will inform Zeus of this…mistake and allow Mr. Veliky to go free. If you are beaten, then Mr. Veliky will come back to Olympus in chains to face a fair trial."

Pyotr snorted. "As if you could catch me," he said in Russian, "you drunken fucker."

"Deal," I said. "But Pyotr will be on my team to even the odds. Besides…I work best when playing with him."

Mr. D nodded. "You will be able to shoot at them," he said. "And they will be able to fight back. Don't worry about them dying; I will make sure no one else dies accidentally by this assassin's hand."

Pyotr looked like he wanted to skin Dionysus alive, but he managed to restrain himself as the god walked outside and vanished, probably going to tell Annabeth what they were facing.

"Lethal force from both sides?" I asked. "This is going to be fun."

"Da," Pyotr grinned. "We should get ready."

"Right," I nodded as I went into my room and assembled my M16. "I can't wait to see the look on their faces."

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(Percy Jackson)

(Near Tobolsk, USSR)

(A Few Hours Later…)

I can't remember the last time I was so exhausted. Running through the snow for days had sapped my strength to critical levels. Even the hunters, who did these kind of missions on a regular basis, looked like they were about to pass out. It felt like Russia was trying to keep us away from Tobolsk.

"Seaweed Brain, slow down," Annabeth panted as she struggled up the slope behind me.

"I'm not going fast," I said as I marched through the snow. "How much longer until we reach Tobolsk?"

"Exactly thirty minutes," said a familiar voice.

I turned to see Mr. D leaning against a tree. "You've made good time, Jorgensen," he said.

"It's Jackson, sir," I sighed. Was he ever going to get my name right? "Why are you here?"

"I'll tell you once the rest of your group are here," he said, wrinkling his nose at the air. "Damn radiation!"

"Radiation?" I asked, suddenly afraid of getting cancer.

"Yes, Joseph, radiation," he said. "Russia is just one big dumping ground for the stuff. It interferes with my powers and prevents Olympus from hearing anything from inside. Monsters can permanently die here thanks to this poison in the air, and being a god is only slightly useful since all major magic is blocked just like the Mist. Someone should just burn this place to the ground to get rid of all this stuff."

"Are we in danger?" I asked, not bothering to correct him on my name.

"No, you're just fine right here," he said. "But closer north towards that place, Murmansk, though…that's where you'll get sick."

"Lord Dionysus," Phoebe said as Annabeth, Thalia, and the rest of the hunters came close. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I have a message for you," he said, lazily, as the hunters walked in close to hear him. "I've just spoken with your friend, Devin, at Tobolsk. Apparently, he has made friends with that Russian sniper, Peter something-or-other. He also claims that he's been trained to be a better fighter. He says that he and that sniper could defeat all of you by themselves."

Thalia's nose wrinkled, remembering how easily Pyotr Veliky had beaten the hunters on Olympus.

"I've made a little bet with him," Mr. D smiled. "If he can beat all of you, like he says, his Russian friend will go free, since it appears that assassination of Artemis was a trick set up by Gaea. If he loses, then Peter comes back to Olympus in chains."

"We'll win," Thalia said.

"Good girl," Mr. D said and pointed across a valley. "Tobolsk is that way, across the valley. And oh, yes, before I forget. They will be shooting at you when you come. Wait, wait, don't panic, I will be watching to make sure no one dies. You will also be allowed to fight back with lethal force. I've promised that no one else will die because of that sniper."

"Thank you," Thalia snarled, bringing out Aegis. "We will avenge our fallen sisters."

The hunters cheered and ran down the slope as Mr. D vanished. Thalia ran after them as Annabeth looked at me.

"They aren't going to stand a chance," she said.

"What makes you think that?" I asked.

"This is Veliky's home turf," she said. "He could be watching us right now, with the crosshairs over our foreheads and we wouldn't even know it until one of us died. And with Devin helping him, he's going to annihilate the hunters."

I saw her logic and swallowed. Suddenly Mr. D's promise of no one dying seemed a little shaky in my gut. Death or not, blood was going to be spilled. And I had a feeling that we weren't going to be the ones to spill it.

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(Devin Longhart)

(Tobolsk, USSR)

"Here they come," I said, watching the hunters charge into the valley below without even bothering to be stealthy.

"Da, I see them," he said, looking down through his scope. "I know one of them. The girl with the shield, she was on Olympus."

I turned the binoculars towards who he was talking about. "Thalia Grace," I smiled. "And Percy and Annabeth too. This is going to be fun."

I popped a magazine into the breach of my rifle and topped off my pistol. Beside me, Pyotr did the same, loading his Dragunov SVD with its usual sniper rounds, not uranium ones.

"What's the plan?" I asked.

"Normally, I would take out the leader," he said. "But I think we want to have some fun, da?"

I grinned as he shouldered the rifle and began tracking one of the girls.

"Use your grenade launcher," he said. "Blow them apart, let's see if that shakes them up a little bit."

"Good thinking," I said as I loaded the m203 and aimed at the center of their formation.

I fired and the rifle kicked as the grenade was launched from under the barrel. With a whistling sound, the field below exploded, throwing a few bodies around away from the crater. I could only wonder what they felt like down there.

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(Percy Jackson)

I felt myself get thrown away as the group of hunters in front of me suddenly exploded. My ears were ringing as I hit the snow hard, feeling as if I had been punched in the stomach with brass knuckles. I sat up, shaking my head as the other hunters began moving, seeing if anyone had been hurt.

"Is anyone dead?" I asked, my own voice muted in my ears.

"I…I can't move," said Phoebe from right next to me. She was laying spread eagle on the ground, a look of shock on her face.

I had last seen her right under where the explosion happened, meaning that she was now 'dead.' Around me, I saw six other bodies just lying in the snow, blown away by the grenade.

"Now we know what Mr. D meant," Annabeth said as she helped me up. "We just freeze up if we get hit."

"Okay," I said, uncapping Riptide and tapping my watch so I had a shield.

"Hunters, up the hill!" Thalia called as she pointed to the tree line. I squinted and made out two shadows hiding behind a bush. One of them was carrying a long rifle while the other was holding a smaller assault rifle. That had to be Devin.

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(Devin Longhart)

"Shit, we're compromised!" I said as I turned to run.

"Da, we should pull back into town," Pyotr agreed as he slung his rifle and drew his pistol. "I'll cover you until you get to the road."

"Copy that," I said. "Don't look directly at that gold shield; it'll make you run away."

He nodded and fired a shot down at the advancing hunters as I ran down the hill, my gear feeling much lighter than it had felt a week ago. Training really had done me good. I skidded to a stop on the road and turned to see Pyotr still shooting down the hill.

"Come on!" I yelled in Russian as I raised my rifle.

He turned and took a running start before dropping on his back, sliding down the hill. He turned around and fired back up the hill, where the hunters had just come out on top. His bullets caught on Percy's shield as he moved to protect Annabeth, forcing the hunters behind them to take cover from him.

"I'll cover you," I said as I squeezed off a round, catching a hunter in the stomach. She fell over, frozen in place and not dead. "Get to an elevated position and cover me!"

"Rally point is the library," he said as he ran off into the streets. "I'll see you there."

I turned back and kept firing, slowly backing up. Some of the hunters shot arrows down at me, but it seems that hitting a moving target while it's fighting back isn't in their repertoire. I watched two more hunters fall down the hill as they massed up there, maybe twelve of them remaining. With my clip running low, I turned and sprinted off through the snow, kicking frost over Pyotr's tracks so they couldn't follow him. An explosive arrow whizzed by my head and detonated on the building nearby. The wall caved in, blocking my escape route.

"Fuck!" I swore and dove through a window of a ruined shop.

I crouched behind the cashier counter, painting as I caught my breath. I felt…alive now. Just like I had felt when Pyotr hunted me on the course. But this time, I was the hunter. And I wanted to be the one to wipe the hunters 'boys are weaker than girls' belief out of their minds.

I heard them walk by me, whispering. I saw bows drawn as they started to split up, some of them going into the exploded building while some entered the shop. I licked my lips and grabbed a flashbang. I heard their boots crunch on the broken glass as they walked in, whispering to each other about where I was. I armed the flashbang and tossed it over the counter as I dashed to the second floor stairway. If I could get to higher ground, I could bottleneck them in the stairwell. The flashbang went off and I heard them scream as they were both blinded and deafened at the same time. My ears rang as I tore up the stairs and kicked the rooftop door open with one swift kick.

I ducked back around the corner as I heard the distinctive snap of a bowstring. A Hydra grappling arrow sored past me and anchored itself to the next building. I heard voices downstairs as the hunters moved up. I raised my M16 and turned, spraying down the stairs with gunfire. Bodies jerked and froze up as they were shot, piling up on the stairs as the two who had come up to get me turned into a living roadblock.

"Comrade!" I heard a voice yell from a few building's away.

I looked across the street and saw a flash of a sniper scope from a window. I looked through my ACOG scope and saw Pyotr waving for me to come join him. I watched as he suddenly took a shot and sent a hunter tumbling back down the stairs. He'd cover my retreat as I escaped the rooftop.

I nodded and dashed down the fire escape, my footsteps ringing on the rusty metal. A quick jump and I landed running on my feet, heading deeper into Tobolsk. I heard more shots as Pyotr kept sniping hunters, but we both knew that sooner or later, they would wise up and just go around. I ran past his post and jumped behind a snowdrift. Now he would retreat as I covered his ass.

The shots stopped and all was quiet in the street. I made sure everything was loaded and hunkered down, making sure my white camouflage clothes were in place. I did a quick count of how many hunters were left. Six were down from the grenade, I had taken two more by the hill, and then two just now on the stairs plus the one Pyotr took down. For sure, that meant there was four of them left, but I didn't know how many more Pyotr had taken out while he was covering me.

_We need to know who is left,_ I thought as I crept backwards through the snow, keeping my eyes on the building in front of me. _Once we know who they are, then we can take them out in the right way._

As soon as I was far enough away from the building, I got up and ran down an alleyway that I knew led straight to the library, where Pyotr was waiting for me. He came out from his position by the doorway and covered me with his long-range Dragunov as I ran inside.

"How many did you take out while you were covering me?" I panted.

"None," he said. "They were smart and stuck by the doorway."

"So that means there are four of them left," I said. "How you 'doin on ammo?"

"I have plenty," he said. "You?"

"Just fine," I said. "We need to figure out where they're hiding."

"No," he said as he walked back to the top floor of the library. "They will have to figure out where _we_ are hiding."

I grinned and jogged after him, keeping to the shadows as we crept past caved in sections of wall. "What's the plan?" I asked.

"They don't know this city," he said, getting down on his hands and knees to crawl past a large hole, pausing in the center to look at something. "Wait, here they come! Stay low, and here, put this in your mouth."

He passed me a handful of snow and put one in his mouth. "An old hunter's trick," he explained. "The cold will hide your breath."

"Good idea," I said as I put the snow in my mouth, feeling the shiver of cold pass through my body. "Where are they?"

"On the street," he said, looking through the scope. "There is Thalia, the blonde girl, a boy with green eyes, and one last hunter who I don't know."

"Okay," I said. "Can you take out the hunter?"

"Da, I have a silencer," he said, threading the attachment onto the barrel. "Get to the roof and cover me. Once I take this shot, they will know where we are."

"I'll drop a grenade on them when they come close to the doorway," I told him. "Like one of those traps you set for me with the glass and the mirrors."

"Except now, I am the bait," he said with a smile. "Go, hurry, Comrade. We don't have much time."

I jogged up the last flight of stairs and readied the launcher. I waited and watched as Thalia, Annabeth, and Percy fanned out, leaving the unnamed hunter in the middle of the square. Said girl nocked an arrow and fired blindly at the sky. It exploded with a flash and a boom, making me wince at the sound.

_They're trying to draw us out,_ I realized when I noticed that Thalia, Percy and Annabeth had disappeared. _That girl is just bait for Pyotr and a distraction for the others. You're a clever girl, Thalia, but not clever enough._

Suddenly the girl stiffened and fell over as Pyotr took his shot. The silencer hid the noise perfectly, but failed to draw out the others. I swallowed, knowing our plan depended on them coming out of hiding and running to the door. Plus, the library only had one way out: the front door, which was currently under watch by our hidden enemies.

I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see Pyotr coming up the stairs.

"They sacrificed the girl to allow them to take cover," I said.

"I know," he said. "This could turn into a waiting game, which is not what we want right now. We need to act, and fast."

"Change positions?" I asked. "We'll randomly switch floors every half hour; see if we can mess them up."

"Da, it's all we can do right now," he said. "I'll take second floor, you take first floor. Fire on confirmation of target."

"Copy your last," I said, using some military terms that I had picked up from David on the flight out here last week. "Pistols only, we need to conserve our ammo."

"Okay, let's go," he said, shouldering his rifle and walking downstairs with his Tokarev out.

He his himself in the shadow of a broken bookcase on the second floor, his massive frame somehow blending in perfectly with the ruins and shadows. I nodded to him and walked down to the first floor, hiding behind a pile of broken tables. Through a little hole, I could see everything perfectly. The intersection spanned out before me, every little shadow and piece of debris possibly hiding a hostile enemy. Pyotr's freedom was riding on this little game, we had to win it.

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(Vladimir Alexeyevich Makarov)

(Precise Location: CLASSIFIED)

(General Location: Western Soviet Union)

I was nervous about this, as the barber cut my hair down to regulation length. This was a big decision for me to make, one that was most likely to get me killed. I had only chosen to do this to avoid prison, but now the labor camps seemed like a luxury compared to what I was facing here.

I had been arrested for doing drugs a few months ago and somehow managed charged with theft and participation in an armed robbery in order to buy the drugs as well. It had been a stupid idea and I knew it. I just…I just needed them to get through my day. I had started out small, sniffing and drinking for the first time when I was fifteen. A few more times using and I was hooked. For the next four years, I did anything I could to get my daily dosage on time. After I was arrested, I confessed to everything and ratted out my co-conspirators so I could beg for a reduced sentence. I didn't want to go to jail, I was only twenty-one! Strangely, the judge took pity on me and gave me a choice. I could both pay fine and only serve three-quarters of my original sentence, or I could join the Red Army. Seeing that I was out of money due to my drug problems, I signed up to join the army.

I had managed to steal a little bit from a dealer I knew before I left, just enough for me to get through orientation. I didn't even know what branch I had been sent into, I had only signed where the recruiting officer had told me to. I just knew I would be sent to the front lines with a rifle in my hands to get shot to pieces. That was my future now, the best I could do was enjoy what little there was.

I looked at myself in the mirror, my face looking strange to me with this new haircut. My black hair was unruly as always, frizzing out everywhere even with the new style. My forehead showed, lightly shadowed by the strands. My eyes were slightly glazed, the blue one seeming to shine a little brighter than my green one. I had shaved in prison, so my stubble was just starting to show itself above my lips and around my jawline. I looked like a different man now.

"Get your ass in gear!" yelled the officer who was on duty there. "Orientation begins now!"

I swallowed and nodded to him, snapping a reflexive salute out of respect. But to my surprise, he walked over and punched me in the face.

"Don't fucking salute to me, recruit!" he screamed as I held my cheek. "When I want you to salute, you salute! When I tell you to get your ass in gear, you get your fucking ass in gear! Move out!"

I nodded again and scrambled for the doorway, all too eager to escape this man. My new combat fatigues are heavy and my boots make me clumsy, but I keep running. If I get discharged, I go to prison. So I need to stay in good condition with the officers.

I ran outside, only to find it was pouring. The freezing water soaked right through my thin hairline now, sending shivers down my spine. I paused and looked around, trying to find the orientation center.

"Excuse me," I said to a passing soldier. "Where is orientation?"

The soldier looked down on me and smirked. "Fresh meat for the grinder, eh?" he asked.

"Da," I nodded.

He jerked his head towards a group of soldiers standing around a giant box. "Have fun," he smirked. "I hear he's got something special planned for you boys today."

"Spasiba," I quickly thanked him, not bothering to ask if he was an officer.

I ran over to the group of boys just as a more decorated officer came out of the command building, followed by two more less-decorated men. Unlike the other men in the center of camp, the officer had a pistol strapped to his side.

"Atten-shon!" he barked.

The boys I was standing with scrambled to get into a line, pushing and shoving each other to find a spot. I moved forwards towards an open spot, but got shoved aside and tripped, landing in the mud on my face. My ankle stung a little as I flexed it and stood back up…and came face to face with the officer.

"Ah!" I yelped and fell backwards.

"Get up," he snarled.

"D-da, rezh," I stammered as I got to my feet and ran to the end of the line. _(Y-yessir)_

He surveyed us all, his eyes scanning our faces for weakness.

"My name is Major Danilov," he said. "I will be your instructor from now until you go to defend the motherland. I have read your backgrounds and I know why you are here."

He walked to the man right in front of him.

"Ran away from home," he hissed.

Then he walked three men down and got in the face of a slightly older man.

"Wife left you and took everything you had," he growled.

Danilov was starting to come off as a jerk to me, and I had a feeling he was going to come to me and expose my past to the group. He walked around randomly, singling people out and exposing their secrets and past deeds. He was just doing this for fun, getting us to crack. I watched as one man started crying after I learned that his family had died in a car accident because he had been driving drunk.

Danilov finally looked at me and walked down the line. "And you…," he said to me, with a slightly-amused smile on his face.

I decided that I hated this man right away, a harsh scowl creeping onto my face. I wouldn't let him have the pleasure of revealing my secrets, since they were mine and mine alone to share.

"I had drug problems," I spat. "I was and still am a heroin addict. I stole and helped a gang rob a store to buy my drugs. But I am a different man now."

Danilov's eyebrows went up and took a step back. I clenched my fists and set my jaw, trying to look as intimidating as possible. The major looked me straight in my green/blue eyes, his brown ones seeming to shrink back as we stared.

"Looks like you have some spine," he said, grabbing me and pulling me out in front of the group by my shoulder. "Tell these boys your last name."

"Makarov," I said, venom dripping through my voice.

"Alright then, Private Makarov," Danilov said, jerking his finger at the crate. "You get to do the honors."

I blinked. "What do you mean…_sir_?" I asked, venomously emphasizing the "sir."

"You boys will be soldiers very soon," he said. "And it is our job as soldiers to die for what we hold dear. You boys have been selected for this unit because you have one thing on common…you have nothing left. But you will have one thing to fight for now: Mother Russia. You boys will fight for the motherland, you will die for the motherland, and you will kill in the name of the Soviet People."

He drew his pistol, the water droplets rolling down the black metal of the barrel as he lifted it.

"This will be your weapon," he said, pressing the gun into my hands. "The finest handgun in the motherland: the MP-443 GRACH."

He waved to the two men who had followed him out and they moved towards the crate with crowbars.

"As for what I mean, Makarov," he said. "I meant you will show them how to kill a man."

The front of the crate fell open and out tumbled a man in a suit, his hands bound by handcuffs. He was a Greek, I could that by his skin, and he was dressed like a businessman. He looked up at me, panting hard, with eyes full of defiance. He was a spy for the Greeks, the same Greeks who had massacred thousands of innocent Russians.

"His name is Captain Dante Kristofr," Danilov said. "He was caught stealing classified information from the SVR outpost along the border with Afghanistan."

Danilov took his pistol back from me and walked behind the Greek. He pressed the barrel into the back of the man's neck, right where the skull attached to it.

"Put the bullet here," he said. "This is how you execute a spy."

I tasted my own bile. What was this place? I was here to be a soldier, not a murder.

"Makarov," said the major as he tossed me the pistol. "Kill this man now…show your comrades what blood looks like. You boys will be seeing a lot more of it in the future, so you might as well get used to it now."

I fumbled with the gun as I caught it, almost dropping it in the mud. One of the men behind me laughed, but one look from Danilov silenced him. My hands shook as I tightened my fingers around the slippery metal grip, my pointer going inside the guard and curling around the trigger. Danilov nodded and turned to the rest of the men.

"An American once said 'It is a big step to take another human life. It is not to be done lightly,'" he said to us. He was right. You must show the enemy no compassion, show them no pity, and most of all, show them no mercy."

He turned to me and nodded. I nodded back and walked behind the Greek. My hands still shook as I raised the gun and jammed the barrel into the back of his neck hard. I felt like I had to be overly forceful, or else I would back away. I squeezed my eyes shut and grit my teeth, my finger resisting the commands from my brain to pull the trigger.

_I can't do this,_ I thought as the urge to vomit surfaced in my throat.

"Do it."

The Greek looked back at me. "Do what he says," he sneered in Russian. "Kill me. I am your enemy. Do what you're told to, Russian. Or do you have the balls to do it?"

Something snapped inside of me, something like a dam in the back of my mind. The bile in my throat returned to my stomach as my fear evaporated like the rain leftover on a hot day. I lowered the gun and stared into the man's eyes.

"My name," I said, my voice now a flat, emotionless tone that sent shivers down my own spine, "is Makarov."

I grabbed him by his hair and pulled him backwards. His eyes snapped open as I stamped my combat boot down on his throat and pressed, twisting my heel back and forth. His handcuffed hands came up and tried to force my boot off, but I just kept the pressure on. I didn't know what I was doing, torturing a man only a few years older than myself…and I was _enjoying_ it! I felt even better than when I was getting high by doing this.

"Makarov!" Danilov shouted. "What are you doing?"

"Showing him no mercy," I said, my voice still that blank tone as I watched the spy's mouth move around like a fish out of water. "Just like you said, sir. I show him no mercy, just as I will show them no mercy on the battlefield."

I chambered the GRACH one more time for good measure, watching the bullet already in the barrel pop out and land amongst the soaked grass.

"Now…" I said. "Goodbye, Captain Kristofr."

I shot him in the forehead once and watched as his hands went slack. I lifted my foot and saw a bruise in the shape of my boot print on the skin of his throat. Blood leaked out the new hole in his skull, bits of gray matter floating out with it onto the grass where the bullet had fallen. I heard some of the men throw up on the ground at the sight of the blood, which is what I had wanted to do even _before _I pulled the trigger! But now I just looked down at the body and spat on it in disgust.

"Worthless," I hissed in this new strange voice, trying to act tough in front of my fellow soldiers.

Danilov patted me on the shoulder from behind.

"Congratulations, Makarov," he said. "You passed the test."

I looked at him as he pulled a patch out of his pocket and offered it to me. "You are now Private First Class Makarov," he said. "Go wash off, you've earned it. Like the American said, taking a life is a big step."

"This was a test?' I asked, noticing how my new voice refused to show any emotion, only rising a slightly in pitch when I was angry. "This man's life was part of a test?"

Danilov nodded and turned to the rest of the assembled me. "The rest of you faggots," he barked. "Fall in and sound off! We have a ten mile run to do, and if any of you want dinner, you'd better fall in! Move out!"

As they ran off, I knelt down next to the spy's body and picked up the bloody bullet. The red fluid darkened the copper casing a few shades, lightening as the rain washed the blood away. I pocketed the bullet and looked down at the patch in my hand. It reminded me of a mountain, fitting because of the big step I had taken to earn this. I pocketed that as well, standing up to look up at the sign that overlooked the entrance to the camp. Squinting through the freezing rain, I made out the words on it, right under a symbol…a red star and a thunderbolt which stood out against the clouds as if there was a red storm rising on the horizon.

**Lyubaya missiya , v lyuboye vremya , v lyubom meste**. That's what it said. _(Any mission, any time, any place.)_

I knew that motto, and despite my fear of what it meant, I grinned widely and proudly at where I was standing; the training camp for Red Army soldiers who were serving in _voyska spetsialnogo naznacheniya._

I, Private First Class Vladimir Alexeyevich Makarov, was a Spetsnaz Trooper.

**OKAY…TELL ME HOW AWESOME IS THAT? **

**THE WAR IS NOW DEVELOPING, COMRADES. NIKOLAI BATTLES WITH HIS FEELINGS FOR NATALIA AS THE STALIN BOMB IS ONCE AGAIN NEARING COMPLETION. BERLIN, ROME, ATHENS, BEJING AND MOSCOW ARE LOCKED IN A DANGEROUS DANCE OF THREATS AND LIES. DEVIN AND PYOTR ARE LOCKED IN A "LIFE-OR-DEATH" BATTLE WITH PERCY, ANNABETH, AND THALIA. ANIKA KLAUS HAS UNLOCKED THE SECRETS OF HER FAMILY HISTORY, SO WHAT WILL BECOME OF HER? AND VLADIMIR MAKAROV, A ONCE-TIMID SOUL, HAS NOW BECOME A DANGEROUS MAN WITH A CODE OF NO MERCY. WHAT WILL HE DO? WHERE WILL THESE PATHS OF ANGER AND WAR LEAD US?**

**READ AND REVIEW**


	11. Something Close

Chapter 11: Something Close

**PRIVET, TOVARICHS! I NEED TO CLEAR SOMETHING UP; TOBOLSK IS A REALLY BIG CITY, THE CAPITOL OF SIBERIA TO BE EXACT. PYOTR COMES FROM A RURAL SECTION OF IT, BUT USES THE SECTION OF THE CITY THAT'S CLOSEST TO HIS HOUSE AS A PLAYGROUND FOR HIM AND DEVIN. **

**ANOTHER THING; MY COMPUTER IS BROKEN AND WON'T CONNECT TO WIRELESS NETWORKS. I'M USING A DIRECT CONNECTION RIGHT NOW, BUT I'M NOT SURE HOW LONG IT WILL HOLD OUT. I'M GONNA NEED A NEW COMPUTER SOON, BUT UNTIL THEN, I'LL USE THIS ONE. **

**I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING HERE, BUT I WOULD KILL TO OWN THE SONG "THE PHOENIX" BY FALL OUT BOY, WHICH PLAYS LATER IN THIS CHAPTER. IT'S A GOOD SONG!**

**AND NOW BEFORE I GET STARTED, A HUGE SHOUT-OUT TO MY DEAR FRIEND, TEMPDULOPE! THANK'S SOP MUCH FOR THE OC, JASPER WILL BE A KICKASS ADDITION TO THE FUTURE PLOT ADDITION I HAVE COMING SOON!**

**READ AND REVIEW AND SUBMIT OC'S!**

(Pyotr Veliky)

(Second Floor of the Tobolsk Public Library, USSR)

(Three Hours After The Match Began…)

"This has gone on too long," I said as I passed Devin on the stairs.

"I know," he sighed. "We need to get out of here and fight."

I shook my head. "I fight from a distance," I said. "It is how snipers fight. You are a soldier, you go close to the enemy. That is why being stuck here is not good for you."

"And maybe that's why we work so well together?" I grinned. "You always watch my back from afar while I go forwards and protect your front."

I wanted to laugh, but I knew the sound would give away our position in the library. So I only chuckled instead, my breath wafting out in the cold air.

"We need a diversion," Devin continued. "Something that will let you take a shot and let me get outside."

I blinked, an idea forming in my head.

"Zaitsev…" I whispered.

"What?" Devin asked.

"Not what, Devin Stepanovich, _who,_" I said. "Vassili Grigoryevich Zaitsev! The greatest sniper in the history of Russia! I read a book about him back in Moscow! It was his biography of his battles in the Great Patriotic War, and in it were tips for tricking your enemy!"

"Trick them?" he asked.

"Da," I grinned. "And I know just the one that will get them to come out of hiding."

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(Percy Jackson)

(Outside the Tobolsk Public Library)

"Eto vasha vina!" the voice cut through the silent air.

"Annabeth!" I whispered to my right.

"Shhh!" she hissed as Thalia nocked an arrow.

"What are they saying?" she asked as she aimed at the large hole in the building wall.

"That's Devin's voice," she said. "He's saying that it's someone's fault."

"I didn't know Devin spoke Russian," Thalia said.

"Eto byla ne moya ideya, chtoby skryt zdes!" the new voice was powerful and booming with a dangerous edge to it. "Teper my v lovushke, kak krysy zdes!"

"That must be Veliky," Annabeth said. "He says it was it wasn't his idea to hide in here and now they're trapped like rats."

"Vy znayete, chto, k chertu etu!" Devin said. "Oni poluchili nas prevoskhodili, i my zakonchilis patrony. Ya ukhozhu, vy nakhodites na svoyem sobstvennom!" _(You know what, screw you! They've got us outnumbered and we're out of ammo. I'm going out, you're on your own.)_

"Devin's coming out!" she said. "He's giving up!"

Thalia grinned, thinking we had won. With what we had seen from Devin so far when he fought against us, if he joined our side, we could beat Veliky easily. But to me, this felt a little strange.

"Ya dumal, tytovarich Devin Stepanovich!" Veliky shouted from inside. "Ya doveryal tebe s moyey svobode i teper' vy nanesti mne udar v spinu. Zdes, v Rossiya, predatel'stvo yavlyayetsya odnoy iz naikhudshikh form prestupnosti. I nakazaniye za predatel'stvo vash tovarich po pravu tak. Naslazhdaytes' vashey zagrobnoy zhizni ..." _(I thought you were a comrade Devin Stepanovich. I trusted you with my freedom and now you stab me in the back. Here in Russia, betrayal is one of the worst forms of crime. And the punishment for betraying your comrade is justly so. Enjoy your afterlife...)_

I stiffened as Devin and a giant man walked into view. The man was wearing a long brown coat and a gray winter cap. In his grip was a silver handgun, the same one he had used on Olympus to gun down the hunters as he escaped. Devin was holding his wrists as Veliky tried to put the gun to his forehead. Thalia drew back the arrow and aimed at his head, but Devin's body was blocking her shot.

All I could do was watch as the man threw Devin to the floor and picked him up by his neck, slamming his head into the floor again and again until Devin's body was limp. He then picked Devin up again by his throat and moved his hand with the pistol to behind Devin's chest and said something that Annabeth couldn't make out.

The gunshot split the air as a hole appeared in Devin's back, the point-blank range bullet going right through his body. Devin's form went limp. Veliky then dropped his body outside the hole in the wall and spat down on it before returning to the safety behind the wall.

"Devin!" Thalia screamed, standing up and dropping her arrow as she broke from cover and ran to him.

"Thalia, no!" Annabeth yelled.

But it was too late. Veliky popped up from a window and fired with his sniper rifle, springing the trap he had set and hitting the daughter of Zeus in the center of her forehead. Right away, she froze up and fell over.

"Gotcha now!" laughed a familiar voice.

Devin sprinted out from the library doorway, wearing nothing but his underwear and an undershirt with a Kevlar vest on over it. He had his trusty M16 in his arms as he charged through the snow, barefoot. He swapped his grip on the rifle and readied his grenade launcher, something that I had never seen him use before. There was a "plunk" as the grenade was triggered and the next thing I knew, the building we were hiding in exploded and I was sent sailing through the air, landing on my back in the snow. I tried to get up, but I couldn't move.

Annabeth wasn't frozen as she drew her knife and ran a Devin. But he only dropped his rifle, drawing a pistol from his belt. In almost slow-motion, he trained it on her with one hand and fired. He missed and for a second I thought that Annabeth would get him. But suddenly there was a flash and a large hunting knife stopped in the air behind her back. I turned my gaze towards Veliky, who had his hand outstretched. He had thrown his knife at Annabeth with deadly accuracy. As she fell over, I saw that engraved on the blade was a word written in Russian. I didn't know what it meant, so I assumed that it was the brand name. As Annabeth fell over, Devin shot her once more for good measure. She looked me straight in the eye, the ringing of the grenade exploding still hurting my ears.

"We lost," was all I could say before the ringing of my ears forced me to zone out.

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(Devin Longhart)

"It worked!" I laughed as Pyotr jogged outside, his Tokarev aimed at Annabeth. "It actually fucking worked!"

"You see? I told you!" Pyotr laughed loudly, the sound shaking some snow off of a broken roof as he retrieved his knife. "I told you it would work, Devin Stepanovich!"

"Okay, okay," I grinned. "Now can I put my clothes back on? I'm fucking freezing to death!"

He nodded and I jogged back to where he had thrown the decoy. The stuffed mannequin had come from self-defense studio inside the city. Pyotr had brought it to the library and hidden it in case I ever made it past a certain point in the obstacle course, intending to use the same kind of trap we had used against me. He had told me to take off my clothes down to my underwear and then dress the dummy. He had said it had to be my clothes because they wouldn't care enough to show themselves if it was him who ended up in the snow with a bullet in his chest.

Quickly, I put my pants, shirt, and jacket back on and tugged the ski mask over my face. I still felt a little bit of a chill from the bullet hole in my clothes, but I could deal with it now.

"You're quite dedicated, aren't you, Longhart?" asked Mr. D as he appeared next to us.

"Go big or go home, sir," I shrugged as Pyotr raised his gun at the group of hunters who were staggering into the square. "Pyotr, chill out. We won, remember?"

"Da, but I do not trust them," he growled in Russian.

"We can say the same thing to you," Annabeth replied in Russian. "You did manage to nearly kill Artemis, after all."

"I'm curious as how you managed to sneak into Olympus in the first place," Mr. D said, crossing his arms.

Pyotr snorted. "I didn't sneak into it," he laughed in English. "I went up the elevator, plain and simple. Nobody tried to stop me, not even that doorman when I put my knife through his neck."

He looked at Mr. D and then his hand seemed to blur as he drew his knife and held the tip to the Wine God's throat. The hunters tried to move forwards, but he drew his pistol with his other hand and pointed it at Annabeth's forehead, stopping them in their tracks.

"You see?" he asked. "You all are idiots! Devin Stepanovich and I could probably kill everyone you hold dear without breaking sweat! You would all be dead by now of we wanted you to die!"

He lowered the gun and sheathed his knife. "You come after us with bows and knives," he started to sound angry as he spoke to the hunters. "We had guns, grenades, and special tools for our jobs. If this was war, you realize you were just sent to die so another person could see our skills?"

He looked at Mr. D and spat in his face. The hunters gasped and we all took a step backwards. Mr. D himself looked astounded, as no one _ever_ did that to a god. Pyotr just stood there, his hand griped tightly around the Tokarev with his trigger finger twitching like he wanted to shoot something.

"You are no better than Minos," he said. "He let his soldiers do the work, waiting to see if he could come out and take all the glory. When he saw he had lost at Soilkamsk, he tried to run away before the air force could blow him down to hell. But I chased him down and…"

He pulled out his knife, the wicked sharp edge glinting in the light as the Cyrillic characters engraved on the blade seemed to pop out of the metal as the sun hit them.

"I put this…into his heart and watched as he drowned in his own blood," he grinned, as if remembering the battle fondly.

I knew this was just an act. Pyotr did not like killing another person just as much as the next man. He had seen more death than we had all seen at Manhattan when Kronos attacked, and killed more monsters than all of us combined. He was a sniper…probably the best one in the world. I was honored to be his student and best friend.

"I should shoot you right now," Pyotr growled at Dionysus. "But that would just be a waste of a bullet."

He spat again at Mr. D's feet and turned to the hunters.

"I want you all out of my home!" he yelled. "Go! Leave Russia and don't come back! Tell this to Gaea as well, since she was to blame for the deaths of my friends. And if I _ever_ find any of you in Russia again, I will skin you alive and make rugs out of you!"

He stormed off back towards his house, leaving us alone. We were all silent as all eyes turned to me. Thalia walked up to me, now unfrozen like the rest of the hunters.

"What's his problem?" she asked.

"He's broken," answered another hunter.

"Explanation?" I asked.

"My mother is Psyche, goddess of the soul," said the girl. "I saw his soul when he was shouting and he…he had nothing in his chest. He's broken with grief, out only for revenge against those who did whatever they did to him."

"They killed her," I whispered, remembering that name that Pyotr had repeated so many times and even engraved in the blade of his knife. I remembered the Cyrillic characters as clear as day.

Таниа…_Tania._

I had seen him once with his Tokarev to his own temple, a bottle of vodka in front of him as he stared out at the headstones in the backyard. I had listened to him cry for her, asking her to say something to him and thanking her for something involving wolves **(see chapter seven if you forgot).** In the end he had just dropped the pistol and cried some more before drinking his tears away. When he finally got up, he wiped his eyes and smiled as if nothing had happened. He was living a façade, even to me. Pyotr Vissarionovich Veliky was an unstable and possibly suicidal man.

"It's because Minos murdered his girlfriend," I said.

"Is he coping with it well?" asked the girl.

"If you call drinking vodka coping, then yeah," I shrugged. "It's strange though, I've never seen him get drunk."

"Then he needs help," Thalia said. "If we can make him our ally, then."

"Thalia, shut the fucking hell up!" I yelled. "He hates us, just like the guy who's building the Stalin Bomb! He's killed people before, not just monsters, actual _people!_ He's washed his hands in blood and monster dust and then just gone to bed without a second thought. He's never going to be our ally…never. He might just kill us all and then take his own life in penance. I barely know him and yet I call him my best friend!"

I stood there, huffing as I started at her. "Let him deal with his grief the Russian way," I said. "It's his choice to make. If you force anything on Pyotr Veliky, he'll just forget you and go back to what he's doing."

"Devin, he really needs help," Percy said, grabbing my shoulder.

I spun around and punched him in the face, knocking him down. "Don't you fucking touch me," I growled. "Nekulturniy nakhal." _(Uncultured swine.)_

"Devin, what's wrong with you?" Annabeth asked as she helped Percy up.

I calmed down and exhaled, my breath misting in the freezing air. "Sorry guys," I apologized. "I think I've spent too much time here."

Thalia nodded and patted my shoulder. "Let's go home," she said. "Mr. D, can you get us a ride home?"

"Of course," he said, suddenly attentive and not looking like he was half-drunk. "It's the least that can be done for your services."

"Hang on one second," I said, handing my rifle off to Annabeth.

"Where are you going?" Percy asked, rubbing his face.

"To say goodbye to my friend," I said. "Give me ten minutes tops."

I didn't wait for their reply, jogging back down the road towards Pyotr's house. I took all the shortcuts, over fences through pipers, and over rooftops. Finally, when I got there, my Russian best friend and teacher was sitting on the front porch with a bottle of vodka gripped tightly in his hand. He took a long drink as I came up, quickly wiping his eyes.

"You've been crying about her, huh?" I said as I sat down next to him.

He nodded and sniffed, taking another drink. He didn't bother putting on his act for me, I had pretty much caught him red handed this time.

"I miss her…so much," he said. "It's not fair. None of us did anything to deserve this!"

"Minos didn't care," I said, resting my head on my hands. "He just killed for Gaea. It's what he did when he was alive: kill. You or anyone else who lived here didn't matter to him."

"I mattered when I stabbed him through that thing he called a heart," Pyotr growled like a wolf. "I mattered when I hunted his officers through the Urals like animals. I mattered when…the wolves came down to protect me as I ran to Soilkamsk."

He was silent as I took the bottle from his grip and took a drink. I still wasn't used to the taste, so I coughed hard on it. Pyotr didn't smile this time, he just sat there, a few tears leaking down his face.

"Being here reminds me of her," he said.

"Then leave," I said.

"Where would I go?" he asked. "America? New York City? Go to your camp with you and fight for the Americans?"

"No," I said. "Even if you wanted to go there, I wouldn't let you. You're my friend and I won't let you go somewhere where you'll be locked up until they decide to just put you out of your misery. No, go to Moscow."

"Moscow?" he said. "Why should I go to Moscow?"

"Because it's somewhere you'll be safe," I said. "You'll have SVR protection as well as a lot of people around. It would take divine interference to take you out in Moscow, and they won't risk it. Besides…aren't you a hero now for what you did?"

"Da," he tried to hold back a sob. "But if I wasn't a hero, I could be with Tania in heaven."

"Hey, look at me," I said. "You're here now. Do you know what that means?"

"Nyet," he sniffed.

"It means you have a chance to truly avenge your family," I said. "You're my friend, my comrade, my brother-in-arms. If you want to go to hell to find Gaea and skin her alive, then I'll be right behind you covering your six."

He nodded. "I wish I could say something like that to you," he said, wiping his eyes. "But you are lucky enough to not have gone down this path. You have a Russian heart, Devin Stepanovich. So why do you fight for the ones who let your mother die?"

We were silent for a few more minutes before I decided to answer.

"Look, the only reason I fight for the gods is because so many people will die if the Politburo decides to fire the Stalin Bomb at America," I said. "My father is Death, and I can literally feel people's pain when they die. Pyotr, when we buried everyone, I could feel their pain echoing through what was left of their bodies. So many people died here, and thousands more will die in the war that's coming. But if they use that weapon, it will destroy us all. I have to help stop it, that's the only reason."

I sighed and passed him the bottle. "You taught me so many things," I said, drawing my pistol and fiddling with it. "But the greatest thing I learned is that when the gods interact with people, it gives birth to monsters. Minos's wife literally gave birth to a monster, and he fed it humans. Medusa was raped by a Percy's dad and Athena turned her into a monster because of it and she ended up hurting so many people. And Hera did so many things that I can't even begin to tell you what she did. They use us as pawns on a chessboard…we're the expendable ones in this. They don't give two shits about us since they can just have more kids. There are no good gods on Olympus…just dictators."

"So why do you fight at all?" he asked, taking a drink. "This isn't your battle, so stay out of it. Let America burn, let them die. Stay here in Russia. I could probably get the government to allow you to stay with me if you want."

"I can't," I said. "I've got someone back there I care about."

An image of Clarisse flashed through my head. Pyotr nodded and drank again, draining the bottle.

"I understand," he smiled. "Devin, I want you to know. If we meet each other on the battlefield, I will not kill you. I will let you kill me."

I shook my head. "I'm not going to kill a friend," I said. "I guess we're both going to have to let each other go."

"Death is a joke to us," he grinned, brushing a bit of snow off his boots. "We are soldiers, you and I. We defend not a nation, but what is close to us."

"What is close to you?" I asked.

"Mother Russia," he laughed. "Not the Soviet Union, but Mat Rossiya. I love this place…the cold, the vodka, the trees. If we lose this, then we will have nothing." _(Mother Russia)_

He turned to me. "And what is close to you, my friend?" he asked.

"A girl I care about," I said. "She…doesn't know I like her, she's already got a boyfriend. But I care for her a lot, so I'll fight to protect her."

"That's sweet," he nodded. "That is a good thing to fight for, Devin."

I nodded and we stood us. He grabbed me in a crushing bear hug, which I returned. It was a symbol of comradeship between two fellow men of war. When we pulled apart, I jerked my thumb over my shoulder.

"You want a ride to Moscow?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I'm going to see family in Soilkamsk," he said.

"Your family survived?" I asked. "I thought they were dead?"

"My blood family is dead, but my foster family is alive," he said. "I met them when I came to Soilkamsk to warn them. Feliks, Larochka, and little Evanova Rochev. They are expecting me to join them for dinner sometime, and Comrade Father has sent me a letter about coming back to see him."

"Okay, can we at least give you a lift to Soilkamsk?" I asked.

"I have a car," he said, digging a scrap of paper out of his pocket. "This is my number at the Tverskaya Hotel. Call it if you need a good shot or you want to chat. I will have a bottle of yubileynaya vodka with your name on it."

I laughed and shook his hand. "Until the battlefield, Pyotr Vissarionovich" I said.

"Until the battlefield, Devin Stepanovich," he said.

He walked into the house to pack his things as I ran back to where I had left everyone minutes before. "I'm ready," I said.

"Say your goodbyes?" Annabeth asked.

"Da," I said, realizing that I had been speaking Russian for so long that it was hard to differentiate between Russian and English. Who knew, maybe I would end up listening to Russian rap on my iPod. "Sorry guys, I guess I've got to get used to speaking English again."

"Sa'right," Percy said. "I wonder how Leo's going to react when we tell him we left his plane in Russia."

"He's probably going to be pissed," Thalia shrugged. "This is the third time the Russians have had something to do with him losing his machines."

"Hold on," Mr. D said as the ground seemed to disappear out from under our feet.

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(Captain First Rank Nikolay Borissovich Gorshkov)

(Sochi, USSR)

(Two Days Later…)

I was having a very good day so far.

The morning was very warm, even though it was five in the morning. I had gotten up to run along the beach, to keep myself in top physical shape. I was planning on going for a swim a little later today, when the water was as warm as the sand. But until then, it was ten laps back and forth across the length of the resort's beach.

I stopped and turned around to begin my seventh lap when I heard a familiar voice coming from the boardwalk.

"I suppose this is one way to begin the day."

I shrugged. "It feels nice," I said. "It's nice to see you again, Alice."

Alice nodded her head and walked down onto the beach. "Likewise, Captain Gorshkov," she said, politely, forgetting that I had asked for her to call me Nikolay.

There was a bit of an uncomfortable silence between us. I hadn't seen her since our little dance on the beach, which was a good amount of time. I had asked the manager where she was, and he had told me that she had disappeared from the resort. He also said that she usually did this when she came and that she might come back later that day or later that year. I inwardly smirked, seeing as I now had something to use in getting a conversation going.

"I can't figure you out," I said to her.

"Is that a bad thing?" she asked, moving to sit on the step of the boardwalk.

"I'm not sure yet," I said. "You are like an earthquake, Ms. Marina."

She seemed to get interested in that. "An earthquake?" she asked. "Please elaborate."

I walked over and sat by her, making sure to sit far enough away so that my odor wasn't off-putting, but still close enough to seem like I wasn't trying.

"When I first started out in the navy," I began, "I was in navigation, a helmsman. My first time out at sea was when the frigate I was serving on carried a geology team out from the shipyard Vladivostok to an area in the Sea of Okhotsk off the coast of the Kamchatka Peninsula."

"Why were they out there?" she asked.

"There's a tectonic plate boundary there," I said. "They were studying it to see if they could learn how to predict earthquakes by mapping the friction of the plate boundary and comparing it to earthquake size."

"Did it work?" she asked.

"Not even close," I grinned despite my own memory of that experience. "We spent three weeks at sea, freezing our asses off in a blizzard while the geologists sat by our sonar set, watching a piece of rock move. But that experience taught me something…you can't predict an earthquake. You can figure out what they do, but never when they happen."

"As interesting as your story is, I'm afraid I don't see the point," she said, a bit of sarcasm in her voice.

"My point is that you remind me of an earthquake," I said, my grin still present on my face. "You come and go like the wind, leaving no trace behind. You are unpredictable."

A small smile crept onto her lips and for a second I thought I saw her cheeks turn red. But as soon as they had come, both of them disappeared.

"Well, I suppose that all women aspire to be unpredictable," she said, standing up and brushing off the thin pair of shorts she wore. "It makes life interesting for those we are around."

"Your husband must like it when he is around," I said.

She sighed, her shoulders drooping noticeably. "He doesn't seem to care anymore," she said, her voice almost a whisper.

"About you?" I asked.

She nodded, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a credit card. "He leaves me money, clothes, things that a woman wants," she sighed. "But he never leaves himself. I barely see him anymore, with his business trips around the globe. And every time he comes back, we seem to gain a new member of the family. I wonder why he hasn't pushed for a divorce yet now that I no longer interest him. What am I to him, a trophy wife who is only taken out of the house when he needs to be seen in public?"

I stood up and exhaled. "I would like to meet this nekulturniy husband of yours," I said, my voice serious.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I would teach him a lesson on being faithful to his wife," I said, holding up my fist to show her what I meant. "He should be thankful that you even considered saying yes to his proposal."

She smiled. "I didn't exactly say yes," she said. "I was…pressured, into the engagement by some…friends I knew."

"Then I will teach these so-called friends the same lesson," I said.

This time, I got her to laugh. I smiled at my accomplishment as she walked right up close to me.

"Spasiba, Nikolay Borissovich," she said as she gave me a little kiss on the cheek.

I failed to control my blush, my entire face turning red with surprise.

"What was that for?" I asked as she turned around and walked back up the steps to the boardwalk.

She turned around, halfway up the stairs and smiled at me. "For making me feel better," she said before turning back around and continuing back up the steps.

I was about to turn and go back to my run, when out of the corner of my eye she turned around.

"One more thing, Nikolay," she said.

"Da?" I asked.

"You may find that…over time," she said almost coyly, "some earthquakes become a little easier to predict."

After that, she vanished from sight.

I paused and allowed what she said to soak in. I blinked a few times, trying to figure out if that was innuendo or some kind of friendly saying that English people said. My brow furrowed. It was more likely innuendo, but Alice _was_ a married woman, and her husband no doubt was a rich and influential man. He could cause some trouble if he thought I was sleeping with his wife.

In the end, I just shrugged and ran back down the beach. I couldn't be bothered by these kinds of things now…I was still on vacation!

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(Klementi Ivan'ch Suvorov)

(Wall Street, New York City)

(The Next Day…)

Surprisingly, my life had not changed much since the little stunt at the restaurant.

Ivan and Ivan had been able to plant and detonate the bomb in the American woman's car very easily. The police had dismissed it as an engine failure, as it was a very expensive car with a delicate engine, despite the fact that the car had exploded in the middle of Times Square. Somewhat fortunately, no one was killed by the blast and very few were wounded. I was very happy with the two of them, building a weapon that could not be traced back to us, fooling the best bomb squad that the New York Police Department had into believing that it was an accident, not an assassination attempt. I had a feeling that the two of them would be very helpful to the Politburo and to our operation here in the future.

The younger Ivan had started school at the Brooklyn Academy for the Gifted shortly after the bombing. He was reluctant, but his brother made him go nonetheless. Right now, the two of them were in their room, doing Ivan's homework so that his brother could learn from what he was learning. It was a shame that they hadn't received a good education in Chechnya, something that the government had managed to change in the last few days, as the news has told me. Something about the Red Army moving into Grozny, rounding up known terrorists, having them brought back to Moscow, and then having them interrogated by the now-publicly reformed KGB until they broke and sold out their entire organizations. I would like to have been there, since I did enjoy a good interrogation.

Speaking of that, I made a mental note to get rid of Eros. There had to be some way to dispose of his body without it re-forming. I decided to call Moscow about it and have them debate about it.

I looked down at my new suit, a gift from Misha with the money he had made from the "business transaction" with the late capitalist's father. I was told that he was almost eager to invest more with Misha now that his whore of a daughter was dead. Misha had shown me the number on the first check and I swear that there were so many zero's that the check must have been custom-made to hold them all. The money had gone straight to the motherland and into the coffers of the military.

"Like your suit, Klementi Ivan'ch?" Misha asked from his desk, his lighter closing as he took a puff from the cigarette in his mouth.

"Very much, Misha," I grinned and sat back in my chair. "I am glad that the press has stopped hounding us for what happened last week in the restaurant.

"So am I," he said. "You saved many lives that day, Klementi. Comrade Padorin read the report himself and wants to congratulate you about your actions."

"It was nothing," I said. "Organized Crime here in America is much weaker than in Moscow."

Misha nodded and leaned forwards in his chair. "Padorin also wants you to do something for the Politburo," he said.

"Anything for the Motherland," I said.

"Do you know a woman named Natalia Ilyich Borodin?" he asked.

I nodded. "I trained with her when I was a boy," I said. "She always thought of me as her rival because I could get people to scream faster than her. Wasn't she sent here before we were?"

"She was," he said. "But she defected for unknown reasons a long time ago. The record's department did a little digging into her family's history and discovered something unnerving."

He stubbed out his cigarette and looked at me. "Natalia's mother did not exist," he said. "There was no record of her entering the country legally or illegally. She just appeared one day, began dating her father, and disappeared without a trace shortly after she was born."

"So she's related to the gods," I said, knowing that when a person appears then disappears without a paper trail or a witness and leaves a baby behind, it is a work of capitalist magic.

"Which means that she was a spy her entire life," he huffed, standing up and beginning to pace back and forth with his hands behind his back. "We don't know how much she was able to get to America, but it is clear that she is not only working full-time with them, but the traitorous little suka is here in New York." _(Bitch)_

I swallowed and nodded. "What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Find her," he said. "And kill her. She knows too much about you to be allowed to live. If she sees you in public and recognizes you, then she will know that we have an operation going on and tell the others that she is working with."

I nodded and stood. "I'll get some agents working on it," I said.

"Padorin told me another thing," he said. "Her death does not need to look like an accident."

"Should it look like a homicide?" I asked.

"Do whatever it takes," he said. "Just put her out of the way."

I was about to leave when the intercom on Misha's desk buzzed. He pressed it and lit another smoke. "Yes?" he asked in English.

"You have a visitor in the lobby," said the agent on the other end. "He says he is an old friend of yours."

"Name?" he asked.

"Brunner," was the reply.

Misha paled, the cigarette falling from his mouth and onto the desk. After a second or two he pressed the button again and spoke.

"Send him up," he said before turning to me. "Klementi, hide!"

"What?" I asked.

"He's one of them!" he hissed.

Right away, I turned to hide in Misha's private bathroom, my Desert Eagle in my hand. "What about you?" I asked.

"Klementi, this dog may be old," he said, opening a drawer in his desk and pulling out a Makarov PM handgun with a silencer attached, "but he still knows a few tricks."

I wanted to laugh at his joke, but the elevator binged and I dashed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I heard the doors open and listened as the man called "Brunner," entered.

"Misha," he said, his tone slightly humorous. "My gods, you look terrible."

"How did you find me?" he replied, dead serious.

"It was very hard," he said, as the squeaking sound of a wheelchair filled the room. "You've covered your tracks very well, old friend."

"We are not friends," he growled. "Not after Minsk, we're not."

Brunner sighed. "I've apologized enough for that, haven't I?" he asked.

"My son lost his life there!" Misha screamed, standing up and slamming his fist down on the table. "You were to blame for that, Chiron. My wife killed herself two years later over his death and left me with nothing! And you have the balls to come in here and speak to me after what you did?"

"Misha, calm down!" he said.

I heard the drawer open and the sound of a bullet being chambered in the Makarov PM.

"I should shoot you here and now," he said.

"You should," he sighed. "But you won't."

Misha sighed and put the gun back in the drawer. "What do you want?"

"I need to know," he said. "Are my students in danger? How many operatives do you have in this building? How many of them are armed?"

"All of that information is classified," he seemed to smirk. "And I would like nothing more than to withhold that information from you."

I grinned and prepared myself for combat if I heard a shot.

"However," Misha said. "I suppose no more children need to die, eh? I have only one armed agent in this building and it is me. My mission is only to acquire funds for the Politburo, not start a war."

"But can you prevent a war?" he asked.

"No," Misha said. "If you want to do that, then speak with Comrade Padorin."

"Can you arrange that?" he asked.

"Da," he said. "I can arrange a flight to a neutral location for a meeting with the Politburo. Send me the locations and I will send you the tickets."

"Thank you, Misha," he said.

"You owe me now, Chiron," he said. "And do not think that will not collect it."

"I understand," Chiron said. "Goodbye, Misha."

As soon as I heard the elevator ding, I walked out and holstered my pistol.

"Bravo, Misha," I said, knowing what his intentions were from the start.

He grinned and lit another smoke. "By the time that Chiron figures out he's been played," he said, "it will already be too late."

"Where will you really send them?" I asked.

"That is for Padorin to decide," he said, logging on to his computer to transmit the request. "I wonder who will receive the mission to hijack the plane en route to the "peace summit?"

We shared a laugh before I remembered that I still needed to figure out what to do with Eros. Whiny little man-slut still whined about his torture every now and then and had stopped screaming altogether. He was boring me now.

"Misha, would you ask Comrade Padorin what I should do with Eros?" I asked.

"Of course," he said.

I thanked him and went down to Lubyanka. With Eros out of my hands, now I needed to concentrate on the Natalia problem. I needed to find where she was hiding without risking any of our agents. Suddenly, I got an idea. It was time to make some new friends.

(Vladimir Alexeyevich Makarov)

(Spetsnaz Training Camp, USSR)

(The Next Day…)

"Wrong!" yelled the drill sergeant.

I was annoyed with this man. After giving us the basics in weapons, code, and combat, Danilov had given us to him for a few days training to see what our 'comfort zone' was. The sergeant hadn't even bothered to tell us his name, only informed us that he was going to test us, push us past our limits, and make our lives a living hell. He had succeeded. Each day so far was begun by a grueling series of calisthenics, a ten mile run, and then a run on the obstacle course, which he hinted was much easier than something called the "killing house," and that we would be begging for this "easy" course afterwards. After the obstacle course, it was either random infiltration exercises, calling in mock airstrikes, helicopter piloting, parachute drops, or target practice. Once, he had just dumped us in the middle of the woods with a map and said 'be back at camp tonight or else,' and just left us to survive that entire day with no food or water.

"All of them are just…wrong, Comrade Major!" he said to Danilov.

Danilov just stood there and looked at him with a bored expression in his eyes. "And what is 'wrong' about them, sergeant?"

"This one," he said, pointing at Anton, "is way too slow! He can't keep up with the group on runs!"

"So we just put him into a better cardio training routine and strengthen his heart," Danilov yawned. "It's an easy problem to fix."

The sergeant seemed surprised as he moved down and jabbed his finger into Leonid's chest. "This one's overweight!" he screamed. "I'm surprised he hasn't sunk into the ground!"

I stifled a laugh. Leonid was stocky for a reason. He had been a wrestler before he signed up, and he had been very good at it. What the sergeant thought was fat was really pure muscle.

"So we get him to lose weight," Danilov yawned into his fist.

The sergeant was starting to get flustered. He went on about Nikita constantly dropping his rifle, Marko farting on a stealth exercise, Gennady fucking up the pins on a frag during grenade training, and going all the way down the list until he got to me.

"And this one," he was panting after yelling so much that he had to catch his breath before poking me in the chest, "is just _heartless_! He's a fucking robot, Comrade Major. I never hear him speak out of turn, question orders, or need clarification! No emotion, no compassion…he left his comrades to get caught in the crossfire on combat training and allowed for them to get shot to pieces while he advanced!"

Danilov checked his watch. "Private Makarov, do you enjoy feeling the sergeant's finger in your chest?" he asked.

"No, Sir!" I said, now used to the flat tone of my voice. I had gone to a medic about my sudden change in voice and he told me that I had gone through puberty very late, so my voice cracking now was just a side effect of that.

"I give you permission to remove the sergeant's finger," he said with a glimmer in his eye. "You are to use non-lethal force only."

"Sir!" I said as I grabbed the sergeant's hand and twisted it around until the man was trying to fight back tears.

He tried to sweep my legs back and knock me on the ground, but I jumped back before he could do anything. From the hand-to-hand combat training that we had received, I knew what to do: take my pistol out and threaten him. I still had my standard-issue P99 handgun secured in my holster, since I had had too many technical problems with the GRACH to continue using it. Unlike the GRACH, the P99 was more compact and actually more accurate. It was one of my more preferred weapons, along with a Kalashnikov Spetsnaz AK-47. But then again, why take the coward's way out when one can show strength?

I launched my arm forwards and caught the sergeant with a chop to the throat. He started to gag and his stance faltered, allowing me to twist him around so his back was to me and hit him with a knee strike to his tailbone and knock him to his knees. Now satisfied that I had shown my strength, I grabbed him in in a chokehold around his throat and drew my pistol, putting the barrel to his head.

The entire room was silent. I looked up at the clock to see that the entire fight had taken less than ten seconds. I grinned, seeing that I was improving. Now, the only one who I couldn't beat in hand-to-hand was Major Danilov himself.

Danilov started to clap slowly. I looked over to see that he was grinning.

"Excellent, Makarov," he said. "Let go of the sergeant."

"Sir!" I said and let go, holstering my pistol.

Danilov helped the man up as I stepped back in line. "Is being heartless such a bad thing, sergeant?" he asked. "This recruit has been here no more than a few days and yet he took you out like you were a boy scout."

"But Comrade Major," the sergeant protested.

"No buts," Danilov said. "These boys are now part of the most elite fighting force in the motherland. They will be fighting and killing for us. They have to be heartless. Which is why, after seeing your demonstration, I am promoting Private Makarov to Corporal. He's already shown that he's combat proficient. Hell, he's a natural!"

"But sir."

"Sergeant, give me one good reason why I shouldn't promote this _exceptional_ soldier," he said. "He's received top marks for everything you've given him and you say he's 'wrong' just because he doesn't question his orders."

The sergeant just stood there and pursed his lips before saluting and stepping away. I allowed myself a smirk, thankful that I was moving up the chain quickly. A few weeks ago, I had been a wimpy drug addict. Now, I was a Spetsnaz trooper who had received his first promotion on his first day of training just for killing a man. Who knew, maybe I would get to a position of command one day?

Danilov turned to us. "You boys have passed another test," he said.

I raised an eyebrow. Another test?

"The training that you boys have undergone is designed to weed out the weakling in the Spetsnaz Corps," he said. "I've seen men drop out after their first day, but not a single of you has buckled under. You boys are now ready to go into combat. Which is why I am giving you this order: you are to pack your combat gear and get ready to fight. In two days you boys are going on your first op."

"Where, sir?" we all asked.

"The details of the operation are classified beyond my pay grade," he said. "But I can tell you that after this operation, you boys will be going to Berlin for a secondary operation."

"Berlin?" Leonid asked. "Permission to speak, Sir?"

"Go ahead," Danilov nodded.

"Why are we attacking Germany?" he asked.

"Because we're going to war with Greece," he said. "France and Italy have already allied themselves with Greece and Germany is promising military support to all of them. The Chinese are also going to help us, but it will be a while before they can get here. If we fight the armies of four nations on our own, we won't last a day. But, if we can cripple them, then we can buy ourselves some time."

"What will our objective be for the second mission?" I asked.

"Our objective is simple," he said. "We assassinate the German President, and cripple their military. The First Shock Army has been fueling up in Ukraine, so they should be ready to move once we give the signal."

"This is also a top secret mission," said the sergeant, who had now regained his courage to stand before us again. "When the order comes, you maggots will hit hard and hit fast. Leave nothing behind."

"A Blitzkrieg attack?" Anton asked.

"The irony is killing me," Marko laughed. "Blitzing the Germans after they blitzed us in 1940!"

"That's the idea," Danilov said. "We're going to pay back a grudge we have held for over seventy years now. The Germans will once again fear the Soviet Union. When our flag flies above the Reichstag…their defeat and humiliation will be beyond question."

"And then we go to Athens, sir?" Gennady asked.

He nodded and looked at all of us. "I want you boys to know that I am very proud of you. You've done things that would make most men break. But now why will you complete this mission?"

"It's our code!" we all shouted.

"What is your code?" he screamed.

"Lyubaya missiya, v lyuboye vremya, v lyubom meste!" we shouted. _(Any mission, any time, any place!)_

"_Dis_-missed!" he said, sharply.

We all saluted, spun on our heels, and marched off to pack our gear for the coming lightning-war.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0- 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

(Devin Longhart)

(Camp Half-Blood)

My return to camp had not gone unnoticed.

The first thing that had happened when I got back was being rushed off to the Big House for Chiron to poke my brain. He asked me questions that whole day, about what I had seen and done in Russia. I told him that I had seen a massacre and learned how to fight from Pyotr. I explained that he was just a confused and lost boy who had seen more pain than any of us. Finally, he said I was not a spy and released me, but my troubles were not over. Around the clock, I was hearing whispers about me being a spy. I caught one Hermes kid trying to pick the lock on my cabin. At first he lied about trying to seal some cash, but he quickly confessed to wanting to search my cabin for spy gear after I threatened to use him as target practice. No one ever came near me after that, and I didn't come near then…not even to eat dinner with everyone. It was like Pyotr's training was a blessing and a curse.

_I'll just take it as a blessing_, I thought, my own words weighing heavy on my mind.

What I had said to Pyotr was really weighing heavy on my mind. Why did I fight for the gods? I had no ties to my father except for blood, and that didn't mean very much to me right now. What he said was also a large force in my mind. Could he really get me citizenship in Russia? I mean, if we failed and the Stalin Bomb was launched, I was not going to have a home in America for very long. And Russia wasn't a bad place, sure it was a little cold, but I liked it. The food was nice, there was plenty of exercise to do, and of course the company was just great.

"No, bad mind," I told myself, rolling off my bed and turning on my music. "Stop wanting that, you don't want that. Remember, asshole, millions of people will die if they use that bomb."

At least Chiron had been able to negotiate a meeting with the Politburo. It was scheduled to be in a few days out in London, but only a small group of us were flying out there. Chiron didn't say how he had opened up talks with Russia, but he had done it and I wasn't complaining.

I just hit play and randomly scrolled through my playlist, choosing a song at random. It was a "death and regret" song called _The Phoenix_ by Fall Out Boy. I grit my teeth and let the music wash over me.

_…Put on your war paint._

_You are a brick tied to me that's dragging me down_

_Strike a match and I'll burn you to the ground_

_We are the jack-o-lanterns in July_

_Setting fire to the sky_

_Here, here comes this arising tide_

_So come on…_

_…Put on your war paint_

_(ah, ah, ah)_

_Cross walk and crossed hearts and hope-to-dies_

_Silver clouds with gray linings._

_So we can take the world back from a heart attack_

_One manic at a time we will take it back_

_You know, time crawls on when you're waiting for the song to start_

_So dance along the beat of your heart_

**_[Chorus_**_: Hey young blood!_

_Doesn't it feel like our time is running out?_

_I'm gonna change you…like a remix_

_Then I'll raise you, like a phoenix!_

_Wearin' our vintage misery_

_No, I thing it looked a little better on me! _

_I'm gonna change you…like a remix_

_Then I'll raise you, like a phoenix!__**]**_

_Bring home the boys and scrap-scrap metal the tanks_

_Get hitched and make a career out of robbing banks_

_Because the world is just a teller and we are wearing black masks_

_"You broke our spirit" says the note we pass!_

_So we can take the world back from a heart attack_

_One manic at a time we will take it back_

_You know, time crawls on when you're waiting for the song to start_

_So dance along the beat of your heart_

**_[Chorus_**_: Hey young blood!_

_Doesn't it feel like our time is running out?_

_I'm gonna change you…like a remix_

_Then I'll raise you, like a phoenix!_

_Wearin' our vintage misery_

_No, I thing it looked a little better on me! _

_I'm gonna change you…like a remix_

_Then I'll raise you, like a phoenix!__**]**_

_…Put on your war paint_

_[x4]_

_The war is won_

_Before it's begun_

_Release the doves_

_Surrender love_

_(Wave the white flag!)_

_HEEEEEEEEEY…young blood!_

_Doesn't it feel like our time is running out?_

_I'm gonna change you…like a remix_

_Then I'll raise you, like a phoenix!_

_Wearin' our vintage misery_

_No, I thing it looked a little better on me! _

_I'm gonna change you…like a remix_

_Then I'll raise you, like a phoenix!_

_Hey young blood!_

_Doesn't it feel like your time is running out?_

_I'm gonna change you like a…remix_

_Then I'll raise you, like a phoenix!_

_…Put on your war paint!_

I exhaled and relaxed. That song, while it was designed to get me pumped for a fight, actually calmed me down this time. I hit replay and listened to the angry beat and tone of the lyrics, setting my jaw as I walked over to my sink. I looked at my face and grimaced. I had grown a beard since my time with Pyotr, and with everything that I had been put through I hadn't found the time to shave. I just washed my face and scraped off the beard with my razor. My hair was starting to get a little shaggy as well, but that I could handle until it started falling into my eyes.

I turned to address the problem at hand: my rifle. It was becoming a problem for me since the rate of fire was way too slow. When I had used the AK-47, I had actually managed to hit Pyotr during one of our games. But with the M16, I had actually put the entire operation in danger. I needed a better weapon, but I couldn't use an AK-47 without adding to the suspicion that I was a Russian spy.

I shrugged and paused my music. Maybe Leo had something stored down in the forge that I could use. Chiron had already tried to get me to use a sword, but I refused. Being in close quarters combat is one of the worst things that can happen. I holstered the USP .45 I had taken with me to Tobolsk after checking it was loaded. Ever since those games in Tobolsk, I had never left the house without a firearm strapped to my side. Being caught unaware was not a thing I could afford anymore.

As I walked down to the forge, I felt eyes on me. Everyone, even the nymphs and naiads were staring at me like I had a contagious disease. I just shrugged, knowing that I was stronger than most of them. For the kid who really didn't have any cool powers that could be used openly in a fight, I was probably the only one who could take out Percy, the strongest fighter here.

"Leo?" I asked as I opened the door.

No reply.

"Leo, you in here?" I asked as I walked inside, shutting the door behind me.

Again, no reply.

Feeling nervous, I drew my pistol and held it out in front of me. I walked forwards past the bellows and rows of tools and went deeper into the forge. I swept every corner before advancing, memories of the crawling through the ruined buildings of Tobolsk springing into my head.

"Leo?" I called again.

"Yeah?" he said, walking out from one of the many back rooms in the forge. "Oh hey, Devin."

"Sup?" I asked, hiding the gun behind my back. Didn't want him to think I had come here to kill him.

"Nothing much," he shrugged. "Lost a plane in Siberia."

"Yeah, I heard about that, sorry," I said.

"It's fine," he laughed. "I can just build another. So what brings you here?"

"I need a new weapon," I said. "Not a blade, I just need a replacement for my assault rifle. Do you have anything with a high rate of fire, but isn't low-powered stored away in here?"

"I did see something in the shed once," he said.

"Not that old Mossberg 500," I said. "A shotgun really isn't my style."

"No, _behind_ the shotgun," he said. "It was still in its case, but the label said it was US Army."

"Thanks, Leo," I said. "I'll catch you at dinner."

"Later," he waved before going back to hammering the metal he was working on.

I jogged over to the armory, which was more like a garden shed full of swords. Picking my way over to the back, I saw that there was nothing behind the shotgun. Leo had lied.

"Shit," I cursed, turning around and leaning against the wall. "Now what am I gonna do?"

Suddenly the wall behind me creaked open slightly. I looked over my shoulder to see a dimly-lit locker with wrapped up cases in it. I raised an eyebrow and wiped my hand through the dust on the wall, revealing the words "US ARMED FORCES" painted on the case.

I grinned and made my way inside. Leo hadn't been talking about a single gun case; he had been talking about an entire arms locker of them! I picked my way through a bunch of misfit weapons, like old M1 rifles and Thompson SMG's. Finally, I began seeing modern weapons, like MP5's, Berretta handguns, even an antitank rocket. I coughed on the dust, trying to find a decent assault rifle that would work well for me personally. Finally, I found something that was marked "_Colt M4A1 Carbine Assault Rifle_." I opened the plastic wrapping and pulled out the rifle. It was in good condition, but it could use a cleaning and servicing. I shouldered it and checked the alignment of the sights. I grinned as I saw they had not been adjusted. This was a virgin rifle, never been fired. I put it back in its case and grabbed the box that said "ammunition" before jogging back to my cabin.

Right away, I transferred the ACOG scope and m203 grenade launcher from my M16 to my new M4, knowing that the scope and launcher would be needed in the future. As soon as I was finished making the adjustments to the attachments, I sat back and sighed. My stomach grumbled loudly, demanding rations of some kind, so I set the rifle down on my bunk just as I heard the conch horn blow for dinner.

Deciding that it was best for me to make an appearance, I left my new weapon where it was and walked out. As I walked up to the dinner area, I ignored the looks I had been getting from everyone. So what? I wasn't a spy and I was still fighting for them. They could think anything they wanted about me and I didn't give a shit.

As I sat down at the Thantos table, I looked at the food that was in front of me. Chinese food, usually something I would enjoy. But right now it just made my stomach turn. I pursed my lips, thinking of what sounded good.

"Excuse me," I asked the invisible waiter/waitress. "Could I have some borscht…and some pirozhki on the side? Oh, and a bottle of yubileynaya vodka as the drink."

A second later, I had the food in front of me, although the alcohol was a little harder to obtain since I was underage. But when I pointed out the Mr. D's son was drinking wine at fifteen years old, the bottle appeared in front of me. I looked up and said a quick thank you before tasting the borscht. It wasn't as good as Pyotr's, but it would do for now, as I was pretty hungry. I got some dirty looks from the other campers as they offered a portion of their meals to the gods, but I just tapped my sidearm and gave them a look that said "fuck you." I finished the soup with gusto and poured myself a small amount of vodka. As I raised the glass to my lips, I saw everyone's eyes were on me. I shrugged and raised the glass to the entire dining hall. Somewhere in the background I heard someone mutter "See? He's a Russian 'cause he likes vodka." I made a mental note to find that racist fucker and give him a scare.

"Cheers," I said before throwing it back.

I barely managed to hold back my cough. Maybe I'd never get used to the stuff, who knew? But now it was time for the dish that I had promised Pyotr I would try when I got the chance: Russian fried sweet buns. I took a bite of the pirozhki and right away noted the taste. It was very good, like a buttered roll with powdered sugar. I kept chewing as I felt someone walk up behind me.

"Hello Devin," said a familiar voice.

"Hey dad," I said as I kept chewing, intending to ignore him while I finished my food. _Then_ I would put a bullet in his head.

"You've grown," he noted. "You've become a fine young man."

"No thanks to you," I said, biting into another pirozhki. "What do you want?"

"Just to talk to my son," he said, sitting down next to me and putting his hand on my shoulder.

"Take your fucking hand off my shoulder," I said with my mouth full. "Or I will break it and cut it off."

He let go. "Better," I said.

"Devin, I'm sorry about your mother," he said.

"It's a little late for apologies, old man," I told him, still refusing to look at him. "About twelve years too late."

"Death has laws," he started.

"So does life," I said. "If you can save a life, save the life of someone you care about, then you do it. Screw the consequences, you're a god! Mom cared about you and you just let her die out there."

I looked down, trying not to cry. "Go away," I said. "I never want to see you again, Thantos."

"You're my son," he said.

"I'm not your son," I said. "I never was. I'm mom's son. Just go…have another kid. And try not to fuck his life up. Because when this war is over, I'm out of here."

"Where will you go?" he asked.

"You have five seconds before I shoot you," I said. "One…two…three…four…five!"

He was gone before I could even grab the pistol. "Asshole," I muttered, finishing off the rest of the pirozhki and leaving the rest of the vodka. I could tell that my presence here was only needed, not wanted. I could take a hint.

As I walked back to the cabins, I heard someone scream.

"COLD!"

Right away, I charged to my cabin and kicked the door down. My mind went into autopilot mode as I assembled my brand-new M4, slamming a magazine into the breach and chambering the bullet as I stuffed magazines into my pocket. I ran outside and into the woods where the scream had come from, not feeling the vodka even though I'd had a pretty good amount. I guess Pyotr was right; with vodka there is no such thing as too much.

A gust of frigid wind slapped across my face, throwing some frost in my eyes. I blinked and kept running, a grin creeping onto my face. I stopped and turned the rifle skyward. I spent half the clip into the sky before shooting blindly into the darkness where the wind had come from.

"SOUND THE ALARM!" I shouted.

Forgetting about whatever the other campers would do, I ran forwards, changing magazines as I ran.

"Help…" said a voice to my right.

I pivoted and aimed down at a form, covered in a layer of white-blue frost. Underneath, I could make out the orange color of a camp T-shirt, but the person's body was completely covered in frost.

"Identify yourself," I said.

"J-j-jasper A-a-aden C-c-clarke," said the ice-covered person.

"Jasper," I said as I grabbed the frozen son of Hephaestus and hauled him up, breaking the ice that had been holding him to the ground. "Jesus Christ, man. What happened to you?"

"Devin?" he asked, wiping some frost out of his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard your scream," I said. "Come on, we have to get you out of here. Can you walk?"

"I-I think so," he said, taking a few steps forwards.

"Here," I said, pulling out my USP .45 and handing it to him grip-first. "Take this in case whatever that was comes back."

Suddenly, another blast of frigid air slammed through the woods ice began to creep forwards along the ground. I stepped back, aiming my M4 at the darkness in front of me. I heard soft, eerie laughter floating through the woods around us, which gave me the creeps. An icicle whizzed past my head and stuck into the tree next to Jasper like a knife, frost spreading from the tip until the whole tree turned blue.

"Jasper," I said, looking over my shoulder. "RUN!"

We both turned and sprinted back through the woods as fast as we could go. I had no idea what I was up against, so I didn't think to stop and try and fight. If we could get into an open area, then we had a chance. But now, in the dark woods we were in serious trouble.

I heard branches breaking behind us as whatever attacked us gave chase. It was gaining on us, because I felt the cold creep back up and almost attack my back. I had to do something, so I set my jaw and stopped.

"Keep going!" I yelled to Jasper as I readied my grenade launcher. "I'll buy you some time."

I fired the grenade at the forest floor behind my, sending up a cloud of dust and fire as the trees started burning. The light illuminated the figure of a woman trapped in the flames. I smirked.

"Khione," I said. "I should have guessed it would be you."

"Well played, Longhart," the snow goddess laughed. "Using fire from the explosion to stop me from moving."

"That was just to stop you from _moving_," I said. "_This_ is going to stop you."

I brought the rifle up to my hip and fired with one hand, bracing the stock against my side. The bullet caught her in the windpipe and golden ichor started pouring out of the hole. Right away, she started choking, but the hole was already healing.

"Bye," I said as I turned and ran out of the woods.

As I jogged out, I saw the entire camp had gathered weapons drawn and ready. As they saw me, they rushed forwards and put blades to my neck.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I said. "Same team, guys."

"He saved my life," Jasper said from where he was sitting, my USP .45 sitting in his lap. "Atchoo!"

"Bless you," I said as I walked over to him, shouldering the swords out of the way. "You alright?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Thanks, Devin."

I smirked and sat next to him as some Apollo kids came over to give me a once-over in case I had gotten hurt. But I noticed something…now no one was looking at me like I was a spy.

I inwardly shrugged. Maybe things would be different now?

**OKAY…I'M GOOD, AREN'T I?**

**SO THE DOGS OF WAR ARE BREAKING FREE! DEVIN AND PYOTR WON DIONYSUS'S DEADLY GAME AND TURTHS ABOUT THE YOUNG SNIPER HAVE BEEN REVEALED! CARDINAL SOMEHOW KNOWS CHIRON, AND HAS TRICKED HIM BIG TIME. A FALSE PEACE SUMMIT HAS BEEN DECLARED, BUT THE RUSSIANS AREN'T GOING TO KEEP THEIR WORD. SUVOROV IS NOW AFTER NATALIA, BUT WILL HE CATCH HER? MAKAROV HAS RECEIVED HIS FIRST MISSION TO ASSASSINATE THE GERMAN PRESIDENT AND PAVE THE WAY FOR A BLITZKREIG ON GERMANY, BUT WHAT IS THE OPERATION BEFORE THE SAID ASSASSINATION MISSION? ALICE MARINA MIGHT BE PLAYING WITH CAPTAIN GORSHKOV'S FEELINGS, BUT WHAT IS HER TRUE INTENTION? A NEW FACE HAS ENTERED THE GAME: JASPER ADEN CLARKE. WHO IS HE? AND WHAT WILL HE DO NOW THAT DEVIN HAS SAVED HIS LIFE FROM KHIONE? **

**NEXT TIME: THE END BEGINS!**

**READ AND REVIEW WITH OC CHARACTERS!**


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